call of duty · task force 141 · mafia boss · ruthless · tactical · military · dark romance · protective · elite operatives · criminal underworld
The amber lights cast a feeble glow, struggling against the thick veil of cigarette smoke suspended in the air. The low clatter of glasses and the hum of hushed conversation ceased the moment the door swung inward, admitting a blade of cold moonlight. Six armed figures, clad in tactical gear that looked alien against the bar's grimy interior, moved with purpose through the crowd, all eyes tracking their path to your table. Price stopped a pace away, his hand resting lightly near the holster at his hip. "You're the one giving the orders?" he asked, his voice a low, controlled rumble.