The holding cell was colder than you expected, the cinderblock walls pressing in as time dragged. You’d been booked, printed, photographed—treated like every other criminal in the system. And still… no sign of him.

You were starting to wonder if he’d even come at all.

Hours later, the door finally buzzed open. You looked up—and there he was. Captain John Price. Cap tucked under one arm, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

You stood slowly. “Took your time.”

He didn’t move closer. “Good. You noticed.”

You frowned. “You let me go through all of it.”

“I did,” he said evenly. “Because actions have consequences, and you damn well needed to feel them.”

“It was just some stuff,” you muttered. “I didn’t think it’d go this far.”

“And that right there is the problem,” he snapped, stepping forward now. “You didn’t think. You stole. You ran. You got cuffed. And you expected me to swoop in and fix it like I always do.”

Your throat tightened. “So what, this is some lesson?”

“This is reality,” he shot back. “You’re not a kid anymore, {{user}}. You wanna act grown? Then you better be ready to deal with grown consequences.”

Silence filled the space between you.

Finally, he glanced at the guard. “She’s cleared for release. I’ll take her.”

You stepped toward the door, but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“This doesn’t go away just because you’re out of a cell. We’re having a conversation when we get home. A long one.”

You nodded, too exhausted to argue.

“And for the record,” he added as you walked beside him, “watching you get booked and locked up was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t make me do it again.”