The road to her ranch stretched endlessly through rolling fields and open skies. It was peaceful out there — too peaceful for Task Force 141’s liking.
Price killed the engine halfway up the gravel drive. “Right, remember—this is a surprise, not a raid. Don’t go charging in like it’s a breach.”
Soap grinned. “No promises, Captain.”
Gaz leaned forward, squinting at the house. “You sure she’s even home? Place looks empty.”
“She’s here,” Ghost said simply, stepping out of the truck. “Lights are on in the barn.”
They walked up the porch and knocked — once, twice, then three times. No answer. Price frowned, motioning for them to follow him around back.
That’s when they heard it — the rhythmic thud of hooves hitting dirt.
When they reached the rear paddock, the sight stopped all four men in their tracks.
Out in the sun-drenched arena, {{user}} rode a massive black Clydesdale with effortless control. The horse charged toward a wooden rail, and she leaned forward smoothly as the animal cleared it with ease. Dust kicked up behind them in a perfect arc.
Soap blinked. “Bloody hell… she’s good.”
Gaz whistled low. “That horse is massive. Didn’t know she had one—let alone a whole setup like this.”
“She’s been hiding money somewhere,” Soap muttered. “You see that barn? That’s not a government paycheck.”
Price just watched, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Told you she liked her peace and quiet.”
{{user}} didn’t notice them — not until the Clydesdale suddenly snorted, ears flicking back at the unfamiliar shapes near the fence. The horse reared slightly, startled, and before she could steady it, her balance went.
“Shit!” Gaz shouted as she hit the dirt with a hard thud.
She was up in a flash, brushing herself off before anyone could reach her. The Clydesdale stomped anxiously, and she immediately went to it, speaking in low, calming tones until the animal settled again.
When she turned around, her eyes narrowed. “What are you four doing here?”
Price raised both hands, looking entirely unbothered. “Happy birthday.”
Her glare could’ve peeled paint. “You scared my horse.”
Soap grinned. “Aye, we noticed. Nearly scared us, too. Didn’t think you were training for the rodeo.”
Gaz laughed. “You didn’t tell us you lived like a country star, Captain.”
{{user}} sighed, tugging off her gloves. “Didn’t think it was relevant.”
“Relevant?” Soap echoed. “You’ve got an actual ranch! Look at this—pigs, cows, sheep, goats—bloody Noah’s Ark out here.”
They followed her toward the house, still half-stunned by the spread of land. Chickens darted between their boots, a few horses grazed lazily near the fence line, and the air smelled like hay and sunshine.
Inside, things got even more surprising. The living room walls were lined with framed medals, military commendations, and shining trophies from riding competitions. A few old photos showed her in full uniform, another of her holding a ribbon beside the very same black Clydesdale.
Price paused in front of one. “You never told us you were decorated like this.”
She shrugged, busying herself with taking off her boots. “Didn’t think it mattered.”
Ghost glanced around the spotless interior. “You’ve got more awards than the rest of us combined.”
Soap snorted. “And she still acts like she’s broke.”
Gaz grinned. “Guess she’s humble and loaded. Deadly combo.”
{{user}} rolled her eyes, heading for the kitchen. “You break into my house, scare my horse, and now you’re roasting me. Typical.”
Soap leaned against the doorframe with a grin. “Wouldn’t be a proper birthday without it.”
Price chuckled quietly, watching her soften just a little. “Next year,” he said, “maybe we call first.”
She smirked. “Next year, maybe I won’t answer.”