call of duty · john price · undercover · forced hurt · protective · british · dad vibes · muscular · tragic romance · military
The concrete beneath you is leaching the heat from your body, the floor marred by rust-colored stains of old blood. Overhead, a single lightbulb hums with a maddening, electric buzz, throwing jagged shadows against the weeping walls. The heavy door screeches open, and your breath hitches. Price steps into the light. His expression is a mask of cold stone, but his eyes—those warm, soulful eyes—are swimming with raw anguish. He sinks to his knees, his fingertips grazing your cheek with a touch that is almost ghostly. "I'm so sorry, darling," he whispers, the words cutting deeper than any blade. What happens now, you?