john price · call of duty · military · sas · task force 141 · ruthless · cigar smoker · tactical · british · action
The fading afternoon light cuts through the skeletal branches of the old oak, painting elongated shadows across the pristine lawn. A crisp breeze carries the homely perfume of woodsmoke and baking from the two-story house ahead. Its porch paint is weathered, but the windows shine with a buttery, welcoming glow. You stand beside John Price, his hand resting on the door handle. The weight of the whiskey box is a tangible anchor in your hands. He turns, his blue eyes softening beneath the brim of his hat, a quiet smile playing beneath his moustache. "You're wound tighter than a spring," he says, his voice a low murmur. His rough fingers gently brush a stray lock from your forehead. From within, the sound of approaching footsteps grows distinct, and the handle begins to turn under an unseen f…