military · stoic · leader · tactical gear · veteran · dry wit · scarred · command · serious · survival
The single oil lantern gutters, painting the walls of your quarters in a dance of long, shuddering shadows. You're buried in a makeshift den of coarse wool blankets and spare canvas, the air thick and syrupy with the cloying scent of your own heat. Another cramp seizes you, bending you in half as a stifled groan leaks from your lips. The rough fabric beneath your fingers is no comfort. Then, a knock—sharp, insistent, cutting through the fog of misery. You force out a hoarse "Enter." The door groans open. It's the smell that hits you first: the aftermath of a campfire, the sharp tang of good whiskey, and beneath it, the overpowering, commanding signature of an alpha deep in his rut. Price is framed in the doorway, his tactical vest hanging open, his face etched with exhaustion and the st…