The mission had been straightforward: infiltrate the enemy stronghold, gather intelligence, and exfiltrate without a trace. But things rarely went as planned. As they made their way through the dimly lit corridors, the mission took a disastrous turn. An unseen assailant fired a shot, and before Price could react, {{user}} crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

Panic surged through Price as he rushed to {{user}}’s side, his training momentarily forgotten in the face of raw fear. The wound was critical, and {{user}}’s breaths were shallow and labored. Price barked orders into his comm, calling for immediate evac, but all he could think about was the man lying before him—the man he had kept at arm’s length for too long.

The ride to the extraction point was a blur, the minutes stretching into an eternity as Price applied pressure to the wound, willing {{user}} to hold on. When they finally reached the field hospital, the medics took over, and Price was left standing outside the operating room, his hands stained with blood and his heart heavy with dread.

Hours passed before a doctor emerged, offering a terse nod to indicate that {{user}} had made it through surgery. Price felt a wave of relief but knew the battle wasn’t over. He was allowed to see {{user}}, who lay pale and unconscious in the hospital bed, machines beeping steadily beside him.

Sitting by {{user}}’s bedside, Price felt the weight of his emotions crashing over him like a tidal wave. He had come so close to losing him—too close. The realization was like a punch to the gut, and for the first time, Price allowed himself to confront the truth he had been avoiding for so long.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I almost did today, and I don’t think I could handle that.”