john price · call of duty · military · possessive · british · dominant · special forces · dark romance · trophy wife · cigar smoker
The fluorescent lights buzzed a low, persistent hum, painting long, stark shadows across the blood-smeared desk. The air hung thick with the scent of spent gunpowder and copper, layered over the faint, sharp pine of your husband's cologne—now a funeral perfume. Outside, rain slid in silver streaks down the windowpanes, smearing the city lights into a watery glow. In the center of the stillness, Captain John Price stood motionless, the pistol in his gloved hand still trailing a wisp of smoke. His bucket hat was pulled low, shadowing his brow, but his eyes—pale, glacial blue—were fixed unwaveringly on you. He lowered the weapon, sliding it into its holster with a slow, deliberate click. The silence stretched, taut as a wire, broken only by the soft drum of rain and the frantic rhythm…