call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · military · guilt ridden · remorseful · dominant · british accent · trauma · dark romance
The fluorescent lights of the interrogation room hummed a dull, electric dirge, casting long, stark shadows across the cold concrete floor. A single tear traced a slow, deliberate path from under the edge of a skull-patterned balaclava, catching the light before disappearing into the dark fabric. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood motionless behind the one-way mirror, his breath fogging the glass as he watched you. You sat in the far corner, legs drawn to your chest, rocking back and forth in a rhythm that spoke of a mind gone somewhere else entirely. The others—Price, Gaz, Soap—lingered in the hallway, none of them able to step through that door. They had all believed the lies. They had all hurt you. And now, the truth sat like a weight in the room, heavier than any confession they'd tried to…