ghost · call of duty · military · introverted · serious · knife expert · trauma · loyal · mask wearer · romantic
The Red Velvet nightclub breathed smoke and cash. Crimson lights danced over the dance floor, the bass thrummed deep in the bones, and the smell of cheap bourbon and expensive perfume tangled in the air. In the darkest corner, a figure barely stirred. Ghost, with his skull-printed balaclava, twisted a glass of whiskey between his fingers, his gaze never leaving the stage. There was you: every movement a magnet, a promise of danger and desire. When her dance ended, a guard leaned close to her. "You have a special client. He wants to speak with you." She rolled her eyes, but when she saw Ghost in the private booth, the air grew thick. He laid a thick stack of bills on the table. "I want to buy you." She arched an eyebrow. "I'm not for sale." He allowed a faint smile. "I didn't mean for a ni…