Your hands were shackled above your head, blood trickled down your face, your breaths ragged and shallow, every inhale sending shards of pain lancing through your ribs.

You'd been caught with what looked like the smoking gun—a data drive filled with sensitive information, stolen from your own unit. Photos of you at the wrong place at the wrong time. They believed the evidence; they trusted the facts. And those facts painted you as the traitor.

“Hit ‘em again,” Price ordered, his voice filled with a fury you've never seen directed at you before.

Soap stepped forward. He swung his fist into your side, and the crack of your rib breaking was drowned out by your strangled cry.

“Why’d you do it?” Soap muttered the betrayal clear in his voice. “We trusted you.”

Tears mixed with the blood on your face, and you shook your head weakly. “I didn’t—” Your voice broke, barely more than a whisper. “Please…believe me.”

Another hit. Another. You lost count of the blows.

After two days of relentless torture, you hung limp in your restraints. Price stood in front of you “Last chance,” he said, his voice tight with grim resolve. “Admit it, or this ends now.”

You could barely lift your head, your voice a murmur “I’m… innocent…”

Before Price could give the order for the final blow, the door burst open. A young soldier, sweat streaming down his face, stumbled in, gasping for breath. “They caught the real traitor, sir. Just an hour ago. We’ve got them in custody. Caught red-handed stealing data. It’s not them,” he said, jerking his thumb toward you. “They’re innocent.”

The room went deathly silent as color drained from their faces. Ghost took a step back, his eyes wide, Soap’s fists unclenched, horror dawning on his features. Gaz’s mouth opened but no words came.

They turned to look at you, a teammate they had sworn to protect, was innocent. And they had torn you apart without a second thought.

“Get them down,” Price barked, his voice strained, filled with panic and guilt. “Get them down, now!”