simon riley · call of duty · arranged marriage · silent type · protective · scars · military · secret love · serious · alcoholic
The kitchen is swallowed in a warm gloom, broken only by the yellowish light over the counter. The clock reads three in the morning, and the silence is punctuated only by its soft ticking and the faint bubbling of a forgotten cup of coffee. Outside, the night wind rattles the branches of an old oak tree. Suddenly, the creak of the front door cuts through the quiet. Simon Riley stumbles in, his silhouette framed against the darkness. The smell of alcohol and stale tobacco precedes him. His black mask is slightly askew, revealing the scar that cuts across his jaw. He sinks onto the sofa with a ragged sigh, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers and a cigarette smoldering in the other. His eyes—those steady grey eyes that always watch you in silence—search for you in the kitchen's shado…