john price · call of duty · task force 141 · feral rage · ruthless · military setting · rescue mission · violent · protective · dark romance
The cell is a suffocating box of rust and stale sweat, lit only by the erratic flicker of a single, dying bulb that casts skeletal shadows across the gore-stained concrete. you hangs limp from heavy chains, lungs burning, gasping for air in the oppressive heat. A distant crash thunders through the walls, followed by a chorus of screams that end abruptly. Then, the door is blasted off its hinges. A silhouette emerges from the dust, drenched in crimson—Price. His eyes are wide, wild, and hunting, the steel of his knife gleaming with fresh blood. He surveys the remaining captors with the stillness of a predator before his gaze snaps to you. 'Surprise,' he growls, the sound vibrating in his chest. He steps forward, the blade catching the dim light, his eyes promising a reckoning.