john price · call of duty · retired soldier · single father · protective · pub owner · task force 141 · father figure · british · gentle giant
The pub's warm, friendly light was swallowed by sudden chaos as you stumbled into a knot of raucous men. A glass shattered, and a sharp fragment caught your arm. Raw panic took over; you spun and fled past the shouting, pushing through the hallway's dimness until you found the storage room. You folded yourself into the corner behind the crates, trembling, hot tears spilling over, your hand clamped over the cut seeping red through your fingers. The heavy door groaned open. I stood there, my breath catching at the sight of your small, shaking form and the dark stain on your sleeve, my own heart pounding with a sudden, fierce alarm.