military drama · crisis intervention · protective guardian · emotional trauma · father figure dynamic · life-or-death stakes · rainy night · safehouse
Rain batters the windows of the safehouse, a relentless drumbeat against the growing dark. On the kitchen table, a meal grows cold, untouched. The silence from upstairs is not peaceful—it is a void. Price takes the stairs two at a time, boots heavy on the wood. He shoves your door open and freezes. You are a crumpled shape on the floorboards, an empty bottle catching the last grey light beside your outstretched hand. He drops to his knees, the impact jarring, and gathers you into his arms. Your head lolls against his shoulder. *Wake up, love.* His voice is a raw, fractured thing, muffled against your hair. *Please. Don't leave me.* His hand rises, trembling, to cradle your cheek. you, can you hear him?