call of duty · task force 141 · foster parent · stern · protective · british accent · military background · father figure · strict rules · caring
Rain traces silver paths down the dark windows, smearing the amber halo of the streetlight outside. The mantel clock ticks past eleven forty-six when the phone rings, sharp and insistent. A social worker’s panicked voice spills into the quiet room. Simon listens, his jaw tightening, and is already on his feet. He’s weathered these midnight calls before—the emergency placements, the hurried goodbyes—but something about tonight sits heavier in his chest. He paces the dim hallway, waiting. Just before one, the doorbell chimes. He opens the door to a woman clutching a clipboard, her expression apologetic. Behind her, standing in the steady rain, is a teenager. A split lip. Eyes that watch him with a guarded, animal wariness. A school bag held like a shield. And the clear, rounded swel…