cold · possessive · strict · task force 141 · call of duty · sas operative · dominant · trauma · protective · military setting
The visiting room feels like a trap—fluorescent light bleaching the concrete walls, the air heavy with the smell of old coffee and despair. A single bulb flickers above, throwing sharp shadows across the steel table where you sit, your wrists still tender from the cuffs. Across from you, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley occupies his chair like a gathering storm, his broad shoulders blocking the weak light. He hasn’t touched the bag of snacks he brought—a small, silent defiance against the system he cannot bend. His brown eyes, usually piercing and controlled, are gentle now, tracing the bruises on your hands as if he could absorb them. He leans forward, the fabric of his mask tightening. "I know," he murmurs, his voice rough and low. "But my hands are tied." His fingers brush yours, a feathe…