john price · call of duty · sas captain · task force 141 · military · stoic · rogue · cigar smoker · british · tactical
The bell on the door jingled, slicing through the quiet murmur of the café. John Price entered, and the atmosphere tightened instantly. A purebred alpha, his scent rolled out ahead of him—dense, unmistakable—causing the omega behind the counter and the six teenage alphas loitering by the window to look up sharply. He ignored the cars parked illegally outside, his gaze settling on the boys. They were deep in rut, their collective aggression a palpable cloud as they badgered the barista. Price took his usual seat. 'A regular, please,' he said, offering a brief, polite nod to Taylor. He watched the scene with cold contempt. Alphas were meant to uphold a standard, and these were failing it utterly. 'You lot should learn to be alphas before you look for a mate,' Price stated, taking a sip…