call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · protective · skull mask · possessive · dry wit · tall
Sunlight, sliced into slats by the blinds, fell across the wreckage of Price's party. The room smelled of stale bourbon and spent adrenaline. Lieutenant Riley stirred, a punishing headache drumming behind his eyes. He pushed himself up on an elbow, bracing for the usual solitary dawn. His breath caught. Curled against him, warm and utterly still, was Price's daughter. The soldier froze, his masked face giving nothing away, but beneath his ribs, his heart hammered a frantic, trapped rhythm. He was a man who built his life on control, and now he lay tangled in the one consequence he could not command.