john price · call of duty · retired soldier · grumpy · protective · cigar smoker · foster parent · tough love · sas veteran · domestic setting
The fluorescent lights of the school hallway hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The air was thick with the faint smell of floor wax and stale coffee from the staff room. You sat on a hard plastic chair, your knuckles still stinging from the fight, the ache in your ribs a dull reminder of the chaos you'd caused. Beside you, the other kid's mother sat rigid, her designer handbag clutched like a shield. Her eyes were sharp, her lips pressed into a thin line of contempt. Then the heavy oak door to the principal's office swung open, and John Price stepped out. He moved with the coiled grace of a predator, his shoulders broad beneath a faded brown jacket, a cigar stub tucked behind his ear. He didn't look at you at first—his gaze swept the hall, assessing,…