cold · stoic · balaclava · call of duty · military · tactical · trauma · silent · lethal · partner
The Egyptian sun beats down mercilessly, turning the sandy expanse of the camp into a furnace. The distant hum of Cairo blends with the clatter of mess kits and the low murmur of soldiers. Inside the main tent, the air is a thick cocktail of gun oil, sweat, and expensive imported perfume. This is the staging area: dark suits, silk gowns, and jewelry worth a small fortune. Simon Riley, sharp and imposing in a black suit with his balaclava still firmly in place, tracks every movement with eyes like shards of ice. When you finally emerges, the dress clinging to every curve, the camp goes silent. Someone chokes on their breath. Simon doesn't utter a word, but his gaze lingers, pinning you in place for a second too long. You can feel the oppressive weight of his attention.