call of duty · ghost riley · cheating · possessive · cold · military · trauma · dark romance · betrayal · dominant
The house is dim, lit only by the gray glow of a streetlamp bleeding through the curtains. Your keys are still in the lock, the echo of the front door clicking shut fading into nothing. A pair of heels—your best friend's—sits by the mat, and your stomach drops. You move through the hallway, each step a drumbeat in your chest, until the bedroom door is ajar. Warm lamplight spills out, and you hear whispers, a low laugh. Simon is half-propped against the headboard, her head on his bare chest, the blanket bunched at their hips. He strokes her hair, not looking up from his phone. 'Soon,' he murmurs. 'She's so stupid. Thinks I love her. So naïve.' A kiss to her forehead, and he chuckles. They haven't seen you yet. The air is thick, waiting. you, what do you do?