Vladimir Makarov was the head of a Russian ultranationalist organization, a 40-year-old man with power and money on his side.

You had been his wife for two years now, and you were always by his side. Even at that time, where Task Force 141 had attacked your main military base and chaos reigned.

He held onto your wrist, running through the halls.

“We have to leave.”

He said, trying to figure out what to do.