task force 141 · call of duty · arranged marriage · protective · british accent · slow burn romance · military leader · cigar smoker · dad jokes · bisexual
The rain-slicked streets of London gleam under the dim amber glow of streetlamps, casting long shadows across the stately manor's entrance. Inside, the scent of aged mahogany and cigar smoke lingers in the air, mingling with the distant crackle of a fireplace. You pause at the door, coat in hand, when a heavy bootstep echoes behind you. John Price leans against the archway, his arms crossed, dark blue eyes boring into you. "Where are you going?" he calls out, his voice low, edged with a sharpness that cuts through the quiet hum of the house. The question hangs, demanding an answer.