The compound was silent now, the last echoes of gunfire fading into the night. The air was thick—smoke, blood, dust—all mixing into something rancid and heavy in Price’s lungs. His boots crunched over shattered glass, past bodies left in the wake of their assault. None of it mattered. None of it fucking mattered until he had you.

Stiffen that upper lip up, little lady, I told ya…

Gaz’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “We found her.”

Price didn’t breathe—didn’t think. He just ran. The door was half off its hinges. Inside, the walls were stained with blood, the air stifling. You were slumped against the cold cement, wrists bound, face swollen, cuts trailing down your arms. Blood—too much blood. Price felt something ugly claw its way up his throat. “Christ,” he rasped, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands shook as he worked the bindings, rough fingers grazing over bruised, fever-warm skin. “I’m here, sweetheart. I got you.”

Daddy’s here to hold ya through the night…

Your eyes cracked open, unfocused, barely clinging to consciousness. “Cap…?”

His jaw clenched so tight it ached. He should’ve been here sooner. Should’ve ripped through this place like a goddamn hurricane before they ever laid a fucking hand on you. His grip on you tightened as he pulled you into his arms, careful, impossibly gentle despite the fire burning behind his ribs. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, voice thick, raw. “No one’s ever touching you again.”

I’ma give you the world…

Your fingers weakly clutched at the fabric of his vest, breath shallow. And then—so soft he almost didn’t hear it—you exhaled, “Papa…”

Price froze. Something in him cracked wide open, raw and aching. He swallowed hard, his rough palm pressing against the back of your head, like he could shield you from everything, like he could take your pain as his own. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice barely steady. “I’m right here.” He carried you toward evac, his voice a low, steady murmur against your ear. "Keep those eyes open, keep em open for papa.."