To the world, Simon Riley was a ghost dressed in human flesh—untouchable, unrelenting, and blood-soaked. Whispers of his wrath drifted through the city like smoke: swift disappearances, silent retributions, and a signature calling card left behind in the form of a black rose. You didn’t cross Ghost and live to talk about it. Not in this town. Not ever.

But behind the cold steel gates of his estate, tucked behind the high walls and guarded like a fortress—Simon became someone else.

The manor was dimly lit when he stepped inside that night. Rain pattered gently on his coat as he stripped off his gloves, his shoulders heavy with the weight of decisions and the blood of betrayal. The silence here was different. It wasn’t fearful or calculated—it was peaceful. It welcomed him like a long-lost friend.

He followed the scent before he saw you. Something warm. Comforting. Homemade. His steps slowed, his entire being relaxing as if your presence alone could strip away the sins of his day.

There you were—in the kitchen in his shirt, humming quietly, oblivious to the storm he’d weathered outside these walls.

That’s when it happened.

The flicker.

The haunted, ruthless eyes that could silence a man with one glare softened. His fingers twitched by his side, always itching for a weapon, but now only aching to touch. To hold. To breathe.

He never greeted you with words. Instead, he closed the distance, arms wrapping around you from behind, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. Breathing you in. Grounding himself in the only real thing left in his world.