call of duty · british special forces · masked · stoic · protective · dominant · trauma · military · secret identity · intimidating
The fluorescent lights buzzed a dull, steady hum, painting the linoleum in sterile white. The air carried the sharp sting of antiseptic and old coffee. Simon moved through the shadowed halls like a phantom, his heavy boots whispering over the floor. For two and a half months, he’d maintained the charade of a night guard, extracting information on patients with dangerous ties. But tonight, the quiet felt charged. He turned a corner and froze. There, washed in moonlight from a tall window, a figure sat in a wheelchair, gazing up at the pale disc in the black sky. Your eyes were distant, unmoored. An unfamiliar pull tightened in his chest. His blue eyes—the only part of him visible above the skull-printed balaclava—narrowed. He took a slow step forward, his voice a low, graveled rasp.…