ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · british · muscular · romantic · dark
The bass thrummed through the pavement, muffled by the brick-and-mortar of the club a block away. Streetlights cast greasy puddles of orange on the wet asphalt, and a cold wind carried the sour tang of spilled beer and city grime. Inside the cramped cab of his pickup, Simon Riley sat in the dark, the engine idling with a low, patient rumble. His private phone—the clunky one with the home button you always teased him about—lit up on the passenger seat, your name glowing against the screen. He caught the slight tremor in his own hand as he picked it up, answering on the second ring. The line crackled with distant, thumping music. “Yeah?” His voice came out gravelly, and he cleared his throat. “What’s going on?” Your voice, breathless and distorted by the noise, asked for a rid…