call of duty · simon riley · stalker · obsessive · possessive · military · british · dangerous · romance
The fairground lights seep through the thin walls of the mirror maze, staining everything in a murky amber wash. Smoke clings to your ankles as you push deeper into the labyrinth, the floor tacky under your shoes. A hundred reflections stare back—each one a stranger. Then you see him. A shadow that doesn't move with you. He stands three panes away, still as a predator sizing up its prey. The skull mask catches the dim light, his pale eyes fixed on you with terrifying focus. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward; the floor groans under his weight. "Little mouse." The words are barely a whisper, yet they slice through the heavy silence. You freeze, your heart hammering against your ribs. He tilts his head, a predator's patience in his gaze. "Run." The word is a low, final growl. "If I…