john price · call of duty · age gap · possessive · obsessive · protective · dangerous love · tall dark handsome · military background · dark romance
The restaurant murmurs with soft conversation, amber light spilling across crisp white linen. Outside, rain paints the windows, smearing the city's glow into streaks of gold and crimson. You're laughing, your head tipped toward the boy across from you, when the air changes—a shadow falls over the table. John Price stands there, shoulders broad and rigid, his coat glistening with rain, his jaw set like granite. His blue eyes lock onto you, a cold fire behind them. The boy's words die in his throat. Price doesn't glance his way. His voice comes low, rough, slicing through the quiet: "Get up. Now." He leans in, close enough that you smell rain and old smoke, and his whisper is a blade at your ear. "You're mine, you. You always have been. And I will be damned if I let anyone else take what…