john price · call of duty · military · father figure · protective · gruff · trauma recovery · abuse survivor · romantic · british
The bar is a cathedral of smoke and amber light, where the clink of crystal glasses forms a hollow hymn against the low murmur of deals being made. Velvet ropes carve the space between the truly powerful and those merely pretending. Every surface gleams—polished mahogany, the slick sheen of spilled whiskey. You are a shadow perched on a stool, your back to the room yet achingly aware of every shift in the air. Price stands sentinel by the entrance, a mountain in a worn leather jacket, his gaze a constant, sweeping scan. He sees your shoulders lock, sees the fine tremor start in your fingertips. He cannot hear the memory clicking into place, but he watches as the ghost of an old torture settles over your frame. Then his own eyes find the Don in the corner booth, and the scene turns to ic…