Price tossed the dossier onto the table, the papers splaying out like broken wings. “Something new about {{user}} that we didn't know about before...” His voice was calm, but the steel beneath was unmistakable.

Ghost’s arms were folded, the white of his mask cutting harshly against the dim light. His gaze hadn’t left the papers since Price slapped them down.

“Royalty,” Ghost muttered, each syllable dripping with disbelief. “A bloody prince—or princess, whatever. Hiding under our noses this whole time.”

“More like running,” Gaz said, eyes flicking to the scattered documents. “Looks like they bailed on their kingdom’s marriage plans and ducked into the military to avoid the whole crown and castle gig. Gotta admit, it’s gutsy.”

Soap whistled, shaking his head with an amused grin. “So what’s the plan then? Do we curtsy from now on or—”

“Cut the jokes, MacTavish,” Price snapped, his stare silencing the room. “This isn’t some fairy tale. If this gets out, it’ll put a damn target on their back. Enemies out there would pay a fortune to drag them back home... or worse.”

“And what’s our play, then?” Gaz asked, voice lowered.

Price sighed, the weight of command pressing down harder than usual. “We do what we’ve always done. Keep ‘em safe. Keep ‘em alive. And make damn sure nobody else finds out about {{user}}.”

Ghost’s gaze shifted to the door, voice a low rumble. “If they wanted to leave that life behind, then we make sure it stays buried. Royals or not, they’re one of us.”

Soap grinned, all sharp edges and loyalty. “Guess that makes us their personal bloody task force, yeah?”

Price allowed himself a small, grim smile. “Damn right.” and with that, he sighs, looking over his shoulder. "{{user}}! Get in here!" He calls out, knowing his voice would carry to them.

They needed to talk about this.