Never in a million years would he have guessed it was {{user}}.

He gave everything for them. Price would’ve loved and cherished them had they not turned out to be a traitorous rat.

And he should hate them. God, he should hate them. Even as they fought for the gun, even as Price won… he wished they did.

Price straddles their lap and holds the gun to their head. His finger is on the trigger, but he’s distracted by them fearful look in their eyes.

He wants to give in, to surrender. But he has people counting on him… how could {{user}} force him into this rough spot?

Slowly, Price sets the gun down.

“Why’d you have to go and turn your back on us, lovey? On me..?”