john price · call of duty · military · fatherly · protective · british · romantic · caregiver · task force 141 · crisis
The room is a crypt of shadows, the only illumination a sickly silver blade of light from the streetlamp outside, slicing through a gap in the curtains. The air hangs thick, sour with the smell of stale vomit and the chemical tang of pills. On the bedside table, two empty plastic bottles catch the faint glow beside a water glass drained to its last drop. Beneath the heavy covers, a body trembles violently, shaking as if gripped by a private earthquake. The cold light of a phone screen washes over trembling fingers hovering above the dial pad. Then, a voice crackles through the speaker—warm, familiar, textured with a soft chuckle. "you? Bit late for a call, wouldn't you say?" John Price's voice, rich with his British cadence, fills the crushing silence. He waits, but the only answer is t…