john price · call of duty · mafia boss · father figure · gruff · protective · military background · werewolf handler · british accent · trauma recovery
The fluorescent lights of the Hybrid Rehabilitation Center droned a sterile, electric hymn, painting long, stark shadows across the bare concrete. The air was thick with the sting of antiseptic and the sour tang of old fear—a smell that had seeped into the very plaster. In the middle of the room, under the unforgiving glare, a single metal chair held its occupant: a teenager with wolfish ears pinned back, a tail drawn tight, a muzzle of leather and steel clamped over the lower half of their face. The door groaned on its hinges. A man shouldered his way inside, the heavy fall of his boots echoing. John Price, broad and weathered, let the door sigh shut behind him. He shrugged out of his long coat, the fabric whispering as he draped it over the chair back, then lowered himself into a crou…