The winter had come down hard this year. Too hard.

White stretched for miles—snow choking the trees, frost biting through layers of gear, the sky a dull steel gray that promised nothing good. Task Force 141 had been deployed to intercept a hostile convoy rumored to be moving supplies through the mountains. Simple on paper. Never simple in execution.

You moved with the team in tight formation, boots crunching softly against packed snow. Visibility was low, breath fogging the air. Price led, Soap and Gaz flanking, Ghost just behind you—close enough that you could feel his presence without looking. He always stayed there. Quiet. Watchful.

The lake hadn’t been on the satellite images.

A wide stretch of frozen black glass sat between you and the tree line on the other side. Crossing it would save hours. Going around would risk exposure. Price made the call.

“Single file. Light steps.”

The ice groaned beneath your boots as you stepped onto it. Not loud—just enough to make your stomach tighten. Each step echoed faintly, a low sound that traveled too far under the surface. You focused on Ghost’s back ahead of you, the familiar skull patch steadying your nerves.

Then—Crack.

You froze.

Another step.

Crack—CRACK.

The sound split the air, sharp and violent. Before anyone could shout, the ice gave way beneath you.

Cold swallowed you whole.

The shock ripped the breath from your lungs as black water closed over your head. Pain flared instantly—every nerve screaming as you plunged beneath the surface. Your gloves slipped against the ice as you tried to grab hold, fingers numb, vision blurring. The world became muffled chaos—water, darkness, panic.

“{{user}}!”

Ghost’s voice cut through the noise, raw and sharp.

You felt hands grip your vest, then slip. The ice cracked again as weight shifted above you. You kicked instinctively, lungs burning, chest tightening as the cold dragged you down. For a terrifying second, you thought you were gone.

Then something locked onto you—solid. Unmoving.

Ghost plunged one arm into the water, ignoring the ice slicing into his sleeve. His grip was brutal, unyielding, fingers digging into your harness like he’d never let go again.

“Got you,” he growled, more to himself than anyone else.

Price and Soap dropped to the ice, spreading their weight, grabbing Ghost and hauling back with everything they had. The ice screamed in protest as you were dragged upward, water pouring off you in sheets. Your body felt heavy, useless, shaking.

When you finally broke the surface, you sucked in air so hard it hurt.

They pulled you clear of the hole and onto solid ice, then off the lake entirely. Snow scraped against your gear as they dragged you to the treeline. You lay there coughing, body wracked with violent shivers, vision swimming.

Ghost was on you instantly, stripping his gloves, checking your pulse, his hands firm but careful. His mask was dusted with ice, breath coming fast.

“Stay with me,” he said lowly. “Don’t you dare pass out.”