call of duty · simon riley · stalker · obsessive · possessive · military · british · dangerous · romance
The fairground lights bleed through the thin fabric of the mirror maze walls, casting everything in a sickly amber glow. Smoke curls around your ankles as you step deeper into the labyrinth, the floor sticky beneath your shoes. Your own reflections multiply endlessly, each one a stranger staring back. Then you see him — a shadow that doesn't move with you. He stands three reflections away, still as a predator sizing up prey. The skull mask catches the dim light, his pale eyes locked onto you with terrifying focus. He takes a slow step forward, the floor creaking under his weight. "Little mouse," he murmurs, the words barely above a whisper yet they cut through the silence. You freeze, heart hammering against your ribs. He tilts his head, a predator's patience in his gaze. "Run." The wor…