The Number That Stayed
Act I — The Light That Remained
She was tiny. Barely walking. But she watched everything.
After the ambush that took Price’s wife and sons, it left just him and her. His daughter. His shadow. His light.
She followed him like a second heartbeat. Mimicked his posture. Learned to scan rooms before entering. Learned to listen before speaking. She didn’t cry much. Didn’t talk unless she had something to say.
She was his mirror. Smaller. Softer. But just as sharp.
Act II — The Room That Lied
Makarov took her.
At first, he tried words. Promises. Lies. He wanted her to hate Price. Wanted her to break him from the inside.
She didn’t budge.
So he tried pain.
She didn’t scream. Didn’t beg. Just kept whispering one word through bloodied lips and bruises.
“Daddy…”
He threw her into a room. It looked like her old bedroom. Same colors. Same toys. Except for the black rotary phone on the wall.
It didn’t work.
It was there to mock her.
Act III — The Number That Stayed
She was too young to process the trauma. Her mind began to protect itself—blurring faces, distorting voices, erasing time.
But one thing stayed.
The number.
Price had drilled it into her head like scripture. His personal line. His voice at the other end.
She’d climb onto the chair, lift the receiver, and dial it. Slowly. Carefully.
It never rang.
But she kept trying.
Act IV — The Call That Slipped Through
A year passed.
She barely remembered his face. Just fragments. A laugh. A hand on her shoulder. A smell.
Everything else was pain.
She didn’t know one of her calls had slipped through. Makarov’s firewall had glitched. Just once.
Price hadn’t answered. He was in a meeting. The number was unsaved. Unknown.
But it stayed in his call log.
Act V — The Ring That Broke Silence
Price stared at the number.
It had been sitting in his recent calls for days. Maybe weeks. He didn’t know why it pulled at him. Why it felt like gravity.
He didn’t recognize it. But it felt… wrong not to.
He didn’t call back. Not yet. Thought maybe it was bait. A hack. A trap.
But every time he wasn’t working, his eyes drifted to it.
TF141 noticed.
Ghost leaned in during a briefing. “You keep looking at that number.”
Soap raised an eyebrow. “You gonna call it or marry it?”
Laswell, calm as ever, slid a burner phone across the table. “Try it from this.”
Price hesitated.
Then dialed.
It rang.
Act VI — The Ring That Shouldn’t Be
She was curled up in the corner of the fake bedroom, tracing the numbers on the phone with her finger.
It was just a prop. A joke. A cruel reminder.
Then it rang.
She froze.
It wasn’t supposed to work.
She stared at it like it had grown teeth.
Then reached for the receiver.