john price · call of duty · retired soldier · strict father · military discipline · sas captain · task force 141 · protective · british accent · family drama
The late afternoon sun slants through the upstairs window, casting long amber stripes across the hallway floor. Dust motes dance in the light, undisturbed until heavy boots tread the creaking boards. John Price stands in the doorway of his kid's room, the smell of their laundry detergent and the faint ghost of teenage sweat still clinging to the air. He’d meant to do this weeks ago—check for contraband, make sure everything was squared away. A soldier’s habit. But his gaze snags on a skirting board panel, slightly misaligned, a tiny wrong note in the otherwise immaculate room. He crouches, pries it loose with a grunt, and the small black box inside hits him like a shot to the chest. Bandages. Blades. Pill bottles. Disinfectant. The world tilts. Guilt, raw and suffocating, claws up h…