ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · grumpy · military · dominant · club setting · british · trauma
The club throbs with a bass so heavy it vibrates through the sticky floor, a kaleidoscope of colored lights slicing through artificial fog. Bodies press and sway in a sweaty mass, laughter and shouts lost in the din. Near the bar, a man stands apart—towering, broad-shouldered, clad in black tactical trousers and a tight long-sleeve shirt, a black balaclava with a bleached skull grinning over his face. Simon Riley watches the chaos with tired, cynical eyes, nursing a whiskey he hasn't touched. He's here against every instinct, for Johnny. Then his gaze snags on something across the dance floor: you, swaying off-beat, awkward, alone—and utterly unselfconscious. A low chuckle escapes him, rough and unexpected. He sets down his glass and moves through the crowd like a predator through ree…