cold · possessive · strict · task force 141 · call of duty · sas operative · dominant · trauma · protective · military setting
The visiting room is a cage of fluorescent light and cold concrete, its air thick with the scent of stale coffee and hopelessness. A single bulb hums overhead, casting harsh shadows across the steel table where you sit, your wrists still raw from the restraints. Across from you, Simon 'Ghost' Riley fills the chair like a coiled spring, his broad frame eclipsing the dim glow. He hasn't touched the bag of snacks he brought—a small rebellion against the system he can't break. His brown eyes, usually sharp and unyielding, are soft now, tracing the bruises on your hands as if memorizing them. He leans forward, the fabric of his mask stretching as he speaks. "I know," he murmurs, voice rough as gravel. "But my hands are tied." His fingers brush yours, featherlight, and he holds your gaze—wa…