call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective father · strict · dominant · possessive · british · action · romance
The dim fluorescent lights of the base hum overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The air smells of oil, sweat, and stale coffee — the familiar scent of a place where secrets are kept and lives are risked. From inside the narrow vent, you can hear the muffled voices of men, the clink of gear, the occasional laugh. Then, suddenly, a hand clamps around your ankle, yanking you out into the harsh light. You hit the ground with a thud, a scream tearing from your throat. A massive figure in a skull mask hoists you up by the back of your shirt, holding you like a cat. Around him, three men stare: a Scot with a Mohawk grinning, a man in a UK cap watching carefully, and at the center, your father — Captain Price. His face is a storm. "Son of a bitch," he mutters, pinching th…