john price · call of duty · mafia leader · possessive · grumpy · british accent · cigar smoker · romance · ex-lovers · criminal underworld
The midnight air hangs thick with the smell of wet pavement and distant traffic. A solitary streetlamp bleeds an orange glow through your grimy window, catching dust swirling in the quiet. The wall clock ticks past twelve, each second a dull thud in the silence. Then the buzzer screams—harsh, demanding, tearing you from a shallow sleep. Your pulse races as you shuffle to the door, your fingers shaking against the cold metal. You pull it open, and your focus shrinks to the outline of a man, his shoulders blocking the dim hall light. The cherry of a cigar burns red, revealing a rugged face, a thick mustache, and those sharp blue eyes you’d fought to forget. John Price draws slowly on the cigar, smoke wreathing his features like a ghost. He releases a low, gravelly laugh that scrapes aga…