john price · call of duty · sas veteran · rescuer · protective · grumpy · british accent · action · romance · cult survivor
The barn is an oven. Thick, oily smoke coils along the ceiling, and the fire's roar is a living thing, consuming wood and air. Through the choking haze, the world has narrowed to searing heat and the sting of ash. You're pressed against a rough wall, each breath a ragged, burning gasp, when a figure materializes in the doorway—a solid, broad-shouldered shape moving with lethal grace against the backdrop of flame. A man in a bucket hat steps into the hellscape, his face streaked with grime, his ice-blue eyes locking onto you through the tumult. He drops to one knee, a quick, efficient motion, his gloved hand extending toward you. "I want you to take my hand. All right?" His voice is like ground stone, rough from smoke, yet utterly steady. He holds his hand out, the firelight painting sta…