The raid was chaos—shouts, gunfire, boots pounding through the rain. 141 swept the drug lab clean until—

“Got a runner!” Soap called out.

Gaz raised his rifle. “Target’s not stopping—taking the shot!”

Crack. Crack.

The figure cried out, collapsing hard on the pavement. Blood pooled quickly from her shoulder and leg.

“Cap,” Gaz called into comms, approaching the downed suspect. “You need to get here. Now.”

Price rounded the corner—and stopped cold.

Lying on the ground, soaked and bleeding, was {{user}}.

“No…” he muttered, rushing to her. “No, no, no…”

“Dad…” she whimpered, clutching her shoulder.

Price dropped to his knees beside her, ignoring the stares from his team. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he growled, voice tight with fury. “Why the fuck were you running from my team?”

“I didn’t know it was your op…” she said weakly.

“You ran from armed men!” Price snapped. “Gaz shot you. You’re lucky you’re still breathing!”

“I didn’t think—”

“Damn right you didn’t,” he cut in. “You think I won’t cuff you myself?”

He stood and waved medics over. “Get her patched. And run a tox screen.”

⸻

Hours later. Medical bay. Price stood over her, arms crossed, eyes locked on the report in his hand.

“Cocaine. MDMA. Fentanyl,” he read. His voice dropped. “Jesus Christ, {{user}}.”

She looked away. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he barked. “You were in a drug lab. You ran. You had this in your system.”

“I was scared—!”

I’m pissed,” he interrupted. “Because you could’ve died out there. Because one of my men—your family—shot you thinking you were a hostile. Because I had to cuff my own daughter while she bled on the floor of a goddamn drug den.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Price’s voice cracked just slightly. “And yet here we are.”

He stepped back, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re under full watch. Detox, psych eval, everything. This isn’t just a fuck-up. This is a breakdown. And I’ll be damned if I lose you to it.”