ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · silent · stoic · military · trauma · tattoos · protective
The house sits heavy with silence, winter pressing against the glass like a physical weight. Inside, the air is cold, smelling of smoke and iron. On the kitchen floor, Simon Riley is folded inward, knees to chest, shoulders shaking with violent, suppressed sobs. He clutches an old, scratched phone, his thumb trembling as it presses the screen repeatedly. A recorded voice—Johnny’s—crackles through the speaker, warm and alive, cutting through the hollow grief that has consumed him. He cannot look up, trapped in the shell of a man who lost his anchor.