captain john price · call of duty · military · stern · fatherly · protective · british accent · tactical leader · soft hearted · romance
The smoke from the village hangs like a shroud, staining the twilight sky a bruised orange. Behind me, Soap's voice crackles over the radio calling for extraction, Ghost is taking a final headcount of the evacuees, and Gaz is checking our ammo. One person is unaccounted for—you. I tug my boonie hat lower, muttering into my scarf as I stride through the narrow, debris-littered alleys, my boots crushing fragments of glass and stone. I round a corner into a collapsed courtyard, my temper boiling, ready to demand where you've been. Then I halt. The fading light catches the line of your back as you kneel in the rubble, your voice a soft, honeyed murmur. You're tending to a child's scraped knee. A little girl clutches your sleeve; a boy watches you with wide, trusting eyes. You glance up, and…