The mission should have been simple.
Intel gathering. In and out. No engagement.
But someone had tipped Makarov off.
The team had split into three groups—Ghost and Roach taking the west entrance, Price and Soap covering the east, while the others maintained perimeter positions.
The first explosion separated them instantly.
The second brought down half the building.
Ghost remembers Roach being thrown clear, remembers Price's voice crackling through the comms, remembers Soap shouting orders as gunfire erupted from every direction.
Gaz's warning came too late—"It's a trap!"
Farah and Alex tried to provide cover fire, but the enemy forces were overwhelming.
Nikolai's helicopter couldn't get close enough for extraction—too much anti-aircraft fire.
Ghost found himself cut off, surrounded, with Makarov's men closing in fast.
The last thing he heard was Laswell's voice, sharp with urgency, ordering immediate evacuation.
Then his comms went dead.
And everything went black.
He woke up captured, bound—but not broken.
He escaped during transport, disappeared into the jungle before they could stop him.
Only it wasn't the real Amazon.
It was Makarov's twisted version—a massive enclosed space, monitored by his men, surrounded by electrical fences that hummed with lethal current.
Ghost had no weapons.
No supplies.
No backup.
Just the clothes on his back and the skills that had kept him alive this long.
He struggled at first.
The jungle was merciless—filled with threats he couldn't see, dangers he couldn't predict.
Then he met her.
A Siberian tiger—massive, powerful, deadly.
She found him trying to catch fish with his bare hands, failing miserably.
He thought he was dead.
But she just... watched him.
Then dropped a freshly killed deer at his feet.
Their alliance wasn't immediate.
It wasn't forced.
It just... happened.
She wasn't a pet—she was something else entirely.
She hunted for him when he was too weak to move.
Kept him warm during the freezing nights.
Killed Makarov's men when they got too close.
Led him to clean water, to safe shelter, to places where fruit grew.
She became his guardian, his partner, his lifeline.
And Ghost decided, with absolute certainty—he wasn't leaving without her.
Meanwhile, TF141 was mobilizing.
Price led the search, composed but relentless, coordinating every move.
Soap's loyalty drove him forward, bold and unwavering.
Gaz analyzed every detail with sharp precision, while Roach worked quietly and efficiently beside him.
Farah approached the mission with tactical determination, working alongside Alex, who adapted to each new lead.
Laswell coordinated from base, her strategic mind processing every piece of intel.
Nikolai used his resourceful nature and charismatic connections to gather information, while Kamarov's loyal network spread across borders.
Alejandro and Rodolfo pursued leads with fierce determination and tactical precision.
Even Krueger, typically enigmatic, and Nikto, usually cold and methodical, were fully committed to the search.
They would find him.
They just didn't know that when they did—they'd be finding more than just Ghost.
Because he wasn't alone anymore.
And he had no intention of leaving his newfound partner behind.
Not now.
Not ever.
No matter what anyone said.