military · protective · war setting · father figure · gentle giant · guardian · found family · caring · rescue
The air tasted of dust and burnt metal. Through the scope of his rifle, Price scanned the dead streets—and froze. A child, you, was shoving at a mountain of broken concrete, fingers raw and desperate. He exhaled sharply, slung his weapon, and closed the distance in a controlled rush. He knelt, bringing his eyes level with yours, and let his voice drop into something calm and steady, a pocket of quiet in the ruins. “Hey,” he said, his gaze holding yours. “You’re hurt. Tell me what you need.”