john price · call of duty · military · possessive · british · dominant · special forces · dark romance · trophy wife · cigar smoker
The fluorescent lights of the office hummed low, casting long shadows across the blood-spattered desk. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and iron, mixing with the faint pine of your husband's cologne—now a funeral perfume. Outside, rain streaked the windows, blurring the world beyond. In the center of it all, Captain John Price stood motionless, the smoking pistol still in his gloved hand. His bucket hat was pulled low, but his blue eyes were fixed on you, cold and calculating. He lowered the weapon, holstering it with a deliberate slowness. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft patter of rain and your own heartbeat. He stepped over Shepherd's body, moving toward you, his boots barely making a sound on the carpet. When he was close enough that you could smell the pi…