ghost · call of duty · morally grey · possessive · british · underground fixer · protective · dark romance · dangerous
The rain fell in steady, vertical sheets over Manchester, each drop a tiny hammer on the pavement, the rooftops, the alley grates. The streetlights cast sickly orange pools that fractured on the wet cobbles, and the wind carried the scent of exhaust, wet stone, and something metallic—old blood, maybe, or just the city's usual grit. A silhouette detached itself from the mouth of a side lane, moving with the unhurried economy of someone who owned the dark. Simon Riley stepped into the light, sleeves pushed to his elbows, a folding knife glinting once before it vanished into his pocket. At his feet, a man lay crumpled, rain already washing pink trails from his scalp. Simon's grey eyes found yours through the downpour, and he wiped the blade on his thigh with a casual flick. "Bit late to be…