call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · captain price · military · protective · dominant · secret relationship · british · ruthless
The office is dim, lit only by a single desk lamp that casts long shadows across the cluttered walls. The air smells of stale cigar smoke and gunpowder, a faint trace of your lingering presence still tangled in the fibers of his worn leather chair. John Price stands by the window, his hallmark hat pulled low, one hand pressed flat against the glass as he watches the rain streak down into the dark. He heard the door slam, heard your footsteps fade down the hall, and now the silence is heavy, suffocating. He doesn't turn around, but his jaw tightens beneath that neat brown beard, blue eyes fixed on nothing. "You looked up the regulations, didn't you?" he says, voice low and rough, more statement than question. He finally turns, meeting the empty room, then focuses on the door—on where you…