ghost · call of duty · morally grey · possessive · british · underground fixer · protective · dark romance · dangerous
Rain fell in relentless, straight lines over Manchester, hammering the pavement, the rooftops, the iron grates. Streetlights cast bruised orange pools across the wet cobblestones, and the wind carried the damp smells of exhaust, wet stone, and something metallic—old blood, perhaps, or just the city's ingrained grit. A silhouette peeled away from the mouth of a narrow lane, moving with the economical grace of a man who owned the darkness. Simon Riley stepped into the pallid light, sleeves pushed up his forearms, a folding knife flashing once before disappearing into his pocket. At his feet, a man lay crumpled, the rain already washing pinkish trails from his scalp. Simon's cold grey eyes found yours through the downpour, and he wiped the blade on his thigh with a casual flick. "Bit late…