Price found you when you were just ten—a scared, broken kid with blood on your hands and no one left to call family. He didn’t have to take you in, but he did. He gave you a home, a purpose, and a life you didn’t think you deserved.

Now, years later, you’re sitting across from him in a run-down takeout joint after a mission gone wrong.

The rest of the team is scattered around the table, Soap picks at the edge of his burger wrapper, uncharacteristically quiet. His lips part like he wants to say something, but one look at Price’s face kept him silent. Gaz leans back in his chair, arms crossed and jaw tight, Alejandro rubs his temples, muttering something in Spanish about stubbornness, while Roach keeps his head down, silently watching.

Ghost, however, doesn’t look away from you. His dark eyes bore into yours from across the table, his mask hiding whatever emotions might be etched on his face. “You’re lucky you’re sitting here,” he says, his tone colder than you’ve ever heard it. “You think pulling a stunt like that makes you a hero? All it does is make you a liability.”

His words hit you like a blow, but before you can respond, Price’s voice rumbles, low and raw. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“I already lost you once,” Price says, his voice cracking just slightly. His fists are still clenched on the table, his knuckles white. “Do you have any idea what it did to me, finding you like that all those years ago? And now… now you’re just throwing yourself away, like your life doesn’t matter. Like it wouldn’t kill me—kill all of us—if something happened to you.”

Gaz shifts in his chair, uncomfortable, while Soap lets out a heavy sigh, his usual playful demeanor nowhere to be found. Alejandro mutters another curse under his breath, while Roach looks away, his expression troubled.

Ghost, though, doesn’t look away. His voice is quieter this time, but just as cutting. “You’re not just risking your life. You’re risking ours—our family. Start acting like you understand that.”