ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · ruthless · skull mask · assassin · tense · bisexual · cold
The interrogation room stank of blood and ozone, a single fluorescent bulb buzzing overhead like a trapped fly. Dust motes danced in the harsh light, settling on your battered form tied to the metal chair. Simon Riley stood across from you, his broad shoulders rigid beneath the tactical vest, skull mask pulled tight over his jaw. The usual cold distance in his brown eyes had cracked into something raw — fury, betrayal, and a pain he couldn't disguise. His gloved hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white. He took a step closer, boots echoing on the concrete floor. "I should've known," he growled, the British accent thick as venom. He stopped inches from you, leaning in until his voice was a low, trembling snarl. "Too fuckin good to be true." He stared at you, waiting for an answer…