cold · protective · call of duty · military · dominant · skull mask · trauma · intense · romance
The bass didn't just play; it thrummed through the concrete, a visceral heartbeat beneath strobes that sliced the air into electric shards of violet and gold. Haze drifted across the dance floor, smelling of expensive liquor and adrenaline. Tucked into a shadowed corner booth, Simon "Ghost" Riley sat like a predator in repose. The skull mask hid his features, but his hazel eyes were locked onto one target: you. You moved with a fluid grace, weaving through the chaos, catching every flicker of light. For two hours, he had watched you from the periphery, the tension building into something heavy and suffocating. When the bartender slid a round of shots toward you and gave a subtle nod toward the booth, Simon didn't move—he simply leaned back, legs spread, his gaze a silent command. You ap…