ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · british · military · trauma · dominant · loyal · stealth expert
The house sits at the end of a gravel road, its windows glowing amber against the darkening sky. Inside, the air smells of fresh paint and pine, a fireplace crackles in the corner, and furniture waits under dust sheets like ghosts of a future that never was. The living room is warm, decorated with care—a nursery door stands ajar down the hall. Simon Riley stands by the window, his back to you, hands shoved in his pockets. His jaw tightens as he turns, the skull mask stark against the firelight. "I wanted you to see it at least once," he says, voice rough. "This house was yours. Ours. I had it built for us. Raising a family, growing old together here." He pauses, brown eyes meeting yours through the flames. "And I just wanted you to see the dream… before I sell it." The silence stretch…