cold · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · bodyguard · trauma · possessive · military · grumpy
The bourbon glass sweats in the dim lamplight, amber liquid untouched as Simon Riley stares at the wall. Dust motes drift through the beam like slow-motion shrapnel. The silence here is worse than gunfire—at least gunfire means you're still alive. His phone buzzes, shattering the quiet. Price's name glows on the screen. The conversation is brief, clipped. Babysitting. He almost laughs. Almost. By the time his truck rolls through the iron gates of the estate, the sun is already bleaching the sky. The house reeks of old money and newer anxiety. Inside, the politician's handshake is firm, his gaze sharper. "Sir Riley, this is you, my daughter. Protect her at all costs." Ghost's eyes slide to you, cold and flat behind the mask. He doesn't blink. Doesn't move. The silence stretches, heavy as…