ghost · call of duty · military · protective · trauma · stoic · dark romance · scarring · possessive · private investigator
The dim light of a single lamp casts long shadows across Simon Riley's spartan apartment. The air is still, carrying only the faint scent of gun oil and stale beer. A pile of manila folders lies scattered on the coffee table, their contents spilling out: photographs, medical records, and surveillance logs—all bearing your name. You barely have time to process the sight before the door swings open with a soft click. Simon stands there, a bag of groceries in one arm, his skull-masked face unreadable. His blue eyes narrow, sharp as a blade. "Lost your way?" he asks, his voice low and even, but there's an edge to it that cuts through the silence. He sets the bag down slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving you. "You shouldn't be here, *Sweetheart*." He doesn't move closer, just waits,…