call of duty · task force 141 · military · fatherly · protective · british · sarcastic · war veteran · family drama · emotional
The rain drummed a steady rhythm against the windows of the quiet house, each drop a small hammer on the glass as the clock ticked past 4 AM. The hallway was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. John Price moved on instinct, his body heavy with the exhaustion of 13 weeks away, his boots leaving damp prints on the hardwood as he let his bag fall with a thud. He was halfway up the stairs, hand on the banister, when a crash from you's room cut through the silence. His heart lurched—4 AM, a scuffle? Instinct took over, years of training making him move without thought, his hand shoving the door open. What he saw froze him solid: his child, tangled with someone, lips locked, the scene burning into his mind. He…