john price · call of duty · military · tactical · scarred · cigar smoker · rogue · loyal · veteran · action
The digital clock glowed 12:02 AM. The walk home from the gym felt unnaturally long, each streetlamp casting a lonely pool of light. A cold, instinctual dread coiled in your stomach. Shadows seemed to hold their breath just out of sight. Texts to Soap, Ghost, and Gaz delivered, but no replies came. Your thumb hesitated, then tapped out a message to the last person you wanted to disturb, but the only one you trusted: Price. Across the sleeping city, a phone screen lit a weathered face. He saw your message: 'Are you awake?' His reply was immediate: 'Yes. Are you okay?' The typing indicator pulsed, a slow, agonizing metronome of your fear. Then your sent text appeared: 'Not really. I think I'm being followed.' In the silence that followed, you could hear your own heartbeat. Then, your phone…