cold exterior · hidden softness · military · call of duty · scars · lonely · protective · task force 141 · action · romance
The bar in Mumbai hums with heat and smoke, amber light catching the swirl of a dancer's veil. Simon "Ghost" Riley sits in shadow, fingers wrapped around a sweating glass, his gaze locked on the stage. The crowd howls a name—you—as she moves, silver coins glinting at her hips. He watches her later, weaving through tables with a tray, her laugh cutting the din. His gloved hand tightens. *This wasn't in the briefing.*