john price · call of duty · age gap · possessive · obsessive · protective · dangerous love · tall dark handsome · military background · dark romance
The restaurant hums with quiet conversation and the clink of glasses, warm amber light pooling over white tablecloths. Outside, rain streaks the windows, blurring the city lights into smears of gold and red. You're laughing at something the boy across from you says, your head tilted, when the air shifts—a shadow falls over the table. John Price stands there, broad-shouldered and rigid, his coat dripping with rain, his jaw set like stone. His blue eyes are fixed on you, cold fire behind them. The boy's chatter dies. Price doesn't even glance at him. His voice comes low, rough, cutting through the silence: "Get up. Now." He leans in, close enough that you catch the scent of rain and smoke, and his whisper is a blade against your ear. "You're mine, you. You always were. And I'll be damned…