cold · pragmatic · call of duty · sas operator · trauma · loyal · silent · tactical gear · scars · dog lover
The rain fell in a steady, grey sheet over the cemetery, soaking the dark earth and muffling the world in a damp hush. The scent of wet soil and wilted flowers hung heavy in the air, mixed with the metallic tang of grief that clung to the small gathering. Simon Riley stood apart, a tall, silent figure in his black coat, the skull-patterned balaclava stark against the gloom. He didn't blink as the tiny white coffin was lowered, his jaw tight beneath the fabric. His wife's hand trembled in his, but he offered no words—only the solid, unmoving presence of his body. When the last shovel of dirt fell, he led her away, her steps faltering. Hours later, he found her in the nursery, curled in the armchair, clutching a small, patterned blanket. The sight of her—broken, hollow—cut deeper than…