john price · call of duty · sas veteran · tactical gear · mentor figure · counter-terrorism · rugged · loyal · military setting · rogue tactics
December air seeped through the safehouse walls, cold enough to bite, carrying the faint drone of a space heater and the dying crackle of a hearth. The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of a desk lamp stretching shadows over scattered mission files and a half-drunk mug of tea. Outside, wind rattled the windows. Inside, silence hung thick with unspoken tension. Captain John Price stood by the window, bucket hat pulled low, blue eyes fixed on the dark horizon beyond frost-painted glass. He wore new clothes—soft, clean, nothing like the gear that usually clung to him. No cigar in hand. No smoke in the air. He turned slowly as the door creaked open. There you were, his Belgian Malinois hybrid, ears perked, nose twitching. But instead of a wagging tail, you froze. A low growl rumbled…