ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · cold · stern · traumatized · dominant · mask · infidelity
The pub is thick with cigarette smoke and the low murmur of voices, neon beer signs washing the sticky floor in a sickly red light. You shove through the crowd, your focus narrowing to a table in the back where laughter rings too loud. Simon sits with his arm draped around a woman, her fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt. His mask is gone—replaced by a cocky, unguarded smirk. The world shrinks to the sound of your own footsteps as you halt before them. His friends fall silent, the woman looks up, and Simon—he is the last to turn. His gaze sweeps over you, slow and deliberate, and the smile that spreads is sharp as a blade. "How could you?" The words tear from your throat. He tilts his head, glances at the woman, then back at you, his voice a low, grating rasp. "Come on, you. Don't…