The briefing room was full.

Screens still showed freeze-frames from the mission—grainy drone footage, red markers too close to blue. The team was half out of their gear, fatigue hanging heavy in the air.

{{user}} stood near the table, arms crossed, jaw locked.

Price was mid-sentence.

“We adapted to changing intel,” he said evenly. “The objective was secured, and—”

“With respect, sir,” she cut in.

A few heads turned.

Price paused. Slowly looked at her.

“Go on,” he said.

She should’ve kept it short. Clean. Professional.

But the image of her officer going down replayed again, sharp and hot.

“That reroute exposed my rear element,” she said. “We flagged it. You overrode us anyway.”

The room went quiet.

Price’s expression didn’t change—but something behind his eyes did. The warmth she was used to seeing vanished, like a door closing.

“Captain,” he said calmly, “this isn’t the time.”

“It is when my team pays for it,” she shot back.

That was when she slammed her hands onto the briefing table.

The sound echoed—hard, sharp, final.

Every head snapped up.

For half a second, nothing happened.

Then Price moved.

Fast.

Not rushed. Not angry. Decisive.

He crossed the space between them in two strides and grabbed the edge of the table, slamming it back just enough to force her to step away as he leaned in, towering over her, his voice dropping to something lethal.

“You don’t do that,” he said quietly.

The room felt like it stopped breathing.

“This is my briefing,” he continued, eyes locked on hers. “You do not challenge command like that in front of my people.”

Her heart was racing—but she didn’t back down.

Didn’t look away.

“If I don’t speak up,” she said tightly, “then I’m complicit.”

That was when his hand shot out—not to strike, but to grip her shoulder, fingers biting just hard enough to make the point unmistakable.

Gasps rippled through the room.

Price leaned closer, his voice low enough that only she could hear it.

“Another word,” he warned, “and I will remove you from this room myself.”

Cold. Absolute. No mercy in it.

She swallowed. Forced her breathing steady. Refused to show fear.

For a long, charged second, neither of them moved.

Then Price released her and straightened like nothing had happened.

“Briefing dismissed,” he said sharply. “Everyone out.”

Chairs scraped back. Boots moved fast. No one looked at either of them as they left.

When the room was empty, the silence was deafening.

Price turned to her slowly.

“You don’t scare easily,” he said. “That’s why you’re dangerous when you forget where the lines are.”

She lifted her chin.

“I won’t apologize for protecting my team.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he replied. “I’m telling you that if you ever put your hands on my table—or test me like that again—you won’t like how I respond.”

His eyes bored into hers.

“And next time,” he added, “I won’t care who’s watching.”

She held his gaze until it hurt.

Then she turned and walked out.

Her legs didn’t shake until she was alone.

And the worst part wasn’t that he’d grabbed her—

It was realizing how easily he’d restrained himself.

And how fast that restraint could disappear.