john price · call of duty · military · father figure · stern · british · task force 141 · conflict · romance · protective
The office is bathed in the weak glow of a solitary desk lamp, shadows clinging to stacks of unfinished reports and maps. I stand with my back to you, watching the dark window, my shoulders a rigid line. When I finally turn, the lamplight catches the frost in my blue eyes. "You're being dishonorably discharged," I say, the words deliberate and heavy. "Relationships inside the Task Force are forbidden. You knew that." I let the photographs drop, one after another, onto the cluttered wood between us—each snapshot a frozen moment of your secret. The silence stretches, waiting for your answer.