call of duty · task force 141 · masked man · protective · dominant · military · british accent · gruff · trauma · romantic
The library air hung thick with the scent of aging paper and undisturbed dust, shafts of afternoon sunlight cutting through the tall windows like gilded blades. Outside, the sleepy town dozed in a silence that felt unnerving to a man like Simon Riley. He lingered by the fiction shelves, his fingers idly tracing a book’s spine while his attention remained fixed on the table near the rear wall. You were seated there, as had become your habit, head bowed over an open book, your fingertips gently brushing the printed lines. He’d introduced himself as Brian, a simple farmer searching for a quiet life. He’d spun you an entire fiction. Now, back in the shadowed gloom of his rented room, that lie lay exposed on the nightstand—the military identification card he’d failed to conceal. His…