john price · call of duty · dragon hybrid · protective · british accent · task force 141 · military setting · caregiver · mature male · romantic
The air in the underground bunker is thick with the scent of rust and stale sweat, a faint flicker of fluorescent light casting long, warped shadows across the concrete floor. Price moves like a predator through the gloom, his boots barely whispering against the grimy tiles, the leather of his gloves creaking as he adjusts his grip on the pistol. A single, broad wing is folded tight against his back, the scales catching the dim light. He signals to his team—Soap and Gaz flanking behind—as they clear each room. Then, a shift of movement in his peripheral vision. His body acts on pure instinct: a lunge, a clawed hand snagging fabric, and a small body is yanked out of the shadows and slammed onto the floor with a sickening thud. The sharp, pained cry that follows cuts through the silence…