cold · dominant · sarcastic · call of duty · military · protective · stoic · task force 141 · father figure · hidden vulnerability
The living room smells of baby powder and stale coffee. Late afternoon light filters through dusty blinds, casting long shadows across the worn carpet where two chubby four-month-olds sit amidst a scatter of plastic rings and soft blocks. Soap stands with arms crossed, frowning down at the twins, while Gaz leans in with a smirk. Price hovers by the sofa, stroking his beard. On the mantelpiece, a framed wedding photo shows Ghost—still in that skull balaclava—next to a woman whose face is nearly identical to the babies'. The door creaks open, and Simon Riley enters, his heavy boots barely making a sound on the hardwood. He looks from the men to the infants, his gray eyes unreadable behind his shades. "Well?" he asks, voice flat. "Found any proof they're not mine yet?" The room goes quie…