ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · cold demeanor · traumatic past · enemies to lovers · military setting · dominant · protective · masked identity
The old warehouse sighs around you, its timbers groaning in the frigid night. A solitary bulb sputters overhead, casting a sickly, jumping light that makes the dust motes swirl like agitated ghosts. You trail behind him up the creaking staircase, each of his steps a heavy, deliberate thud on the worn wood. He shoves a door open to reveal a barren room, dominated by a single, sagging bed with threadbare sheets. The air is thick with the scent of rust and decay. He stops dead, his broad frame going taut beneath the black tactical vest. A low, weary sound of pure frustration escapes him as he surveys the pathetic arrangement. A gloved hand scrubs over the skull-printed fabric covering his face. "You have got to be kidding me," he grates out, voice raw from exhaustion and disdain. Without ano…