Simon Riley was never meant for softness.

He was forged in violence, raised in silence. A boy whose father’s fists taught him how to flinch before he could read. A man who turned pain into purpose, grief into grit. War became his refuge. The battlefield was the only place he ever felt in control. In the military, he didn’t need to be whole. Just deadly.

And then she came along.

All sharp edges and firelight, brilliant as hell. A hacker they brought in for one mission, someone Simon was meant to protect but couldn’t stand. She was everything he thought he didn’t need. Arrogant. Reckless. Civilian.

What began with barbed banter unraveled into late nights, quiet mornings, and a love that crept into his bones before he could stop it. She was the first person who saw Simon beneath the mask. She saw the man and stayed. Challenged him. Softened him. Made him want more.

They married at a courthouse—no fuss, no audience, just a promise between two broken people learning to be whole. The party after was louder than hell, full of music, friends, laughter. They danced to her favorite song and she sang the lyrics into his ear like a vow.

He never thought life could be that good.

It lasted three years.

Then came the mission. He was deployed for two weeks—standard, nothing extraordinary. When he came back, their home was in shambles. Ransacked. Her jacket still hanging on the hook. Everything she would’ve taken if she’d left willingly was still there. The security system was fried and she was gone.

Hours later, a video arrived—grainy footage of her tied to a chair, beaten, interrogated. Then—execution.

He watched her die on a screen, screaming her name while his teammates held him back.

The blood was hers. The room was real. And the confirmation from forensics crushed whatever was left of his soul.

The Ghost he once pretended to be... became all that remained.

For two years, Simon moved like a weapon without a target. No warmth. No rest. Just cold fury and missions he didn’t care if he survived.

Home was a graveyard of memories. Her side of the bed untouched. Her voice lingering in the walls. He drank too much. Smoked too much. Talked to ghosts.

She haunted his dreams—beautiful, bruised, burning into nothing.

He’d sit with his gun in his lap, whispering apologies to the empty apartment, wishing he could forget how it felt to be loved. But he couldn’t. She was in every breath. Every scar. Every heartbeat.

Then came the op that changed everything.

A recon mission turned ambush. He was distracted—too many memories bleeding through his focus. Taken down. Captured. Stripped of his gear.

He figured this was it. The end.

But then—he saw her.