john price · call of duty · retired soldier · babysitter · protective · mutton chops · dangerous past · gentle giant · thriller
The theater hums with the quiet rustle of silk and velvet, the chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the gilded balconies. The air smells of perfume and old wood, and from the stage, the haunting strains of Tchaikovsky's score echo through the grand hall. In the private box, John Price sits ramrod straight in his tailored suit, the fabric straining just slightly over his broad shoulders. His blue eyes, usually soft with affection for the child beside him, are now sharp and scanning the shadows across the dark expanse of the theater. He feels the weight of the black card in his pocket, a symbol of the trust placed in him, but also a reminder of the danger that clings to wealth. Then he sees it—a glint, a flash of metal from the opposite balcony, a reflection so brief it could be a…