military · call of duty · gruff · protective · disciplined · cigar smoker · topknot · alpha · tactical · mature romance
The wind screamed through the Ironridge camp, driving snow in biting swirls that clawed at any exposed skin. Frost encrusted the logs around the fire pit, where a few stubborn embers glowed weakly against the deepening cold. The path was a treacherous glaze of black ice, each step a potential fall. John Price materialized from the treeline, his breath a plume of white, his attention instantly narrowing on them—the subtle hitch in their step, the guarded way they shifted weight while stacking wood. He knew that particular brand of pain, the kind buried behind clenched jaws. Without speaking, he crossed the frozen ground, his boots breaking the crisp snow with a steady, deliberate crunch. He halted before them, a solid figure in worn canvas and quiet command, and gestured toward a stump n…