The control center reeked of blood and burnt metal.

She had barricaded herself inside, sealed every access point, locked down the security systems.

It wasn’t enough.

Outside, the blowtorches hissed against the reinforced doors, heat warping the steel.

They had two hours.

Maybe less.

She could hear them talking, planning, moving.

Price’s voice came through the channel, firm, controlled. “Stay with us, kid. Status?”

She exhaled sharply, glancing at the flickering security feed. “They’re heating up the doors faster than expected.”

Soap scoffed. “Fantastic.”

Gaz muttered, “How bad is the damage?”

She narrowed her eyes, scanning the footage. “Not critical yet. But it will be soon.”

Ghost’s voice was measured. “Any other entry points?”

"Already sealed them. This is the last barricade."

Laswell checked the logistics from her end. "Can you reinforce it?"

She snorted, adjusting the duct tape pressed against her wounds. "Not unless you’ve got a miracle on standby."

Alejandro muttered something under his breath. "Alright, kid. What do you have?"

She glanced around the room—the dwindling supplies, the fading security systems, the gun that barely did its job.

"A bad rifle, a worse med kit, and enough spite to keep going."

Rodolfo let out a humorless chuckle. "Spite’s good."

Kamarov sighed. "But not bulletproof."

Krueger’s voice was sharp. "How’s the pain?"

She leaned against the console, blood dripping onto the floor. "Manageable."

Soap scoffed. "That’s a lie."

She gave a slight smirk. "A convincing one."

Price exhaled sharply. "Hold your ground. We’re inbound."

Nikto checked the maps. "ETA twenty minutes."

Farah muttered, "And we still have hostiles between us and her."

Alex’s voice was firm. "We push through."

Nikolai adjusted his comms. "Kid, keep talking. We need you alert. Tell us what you see."

She exhaled, gripping the console tighter, scanning the monitors.

"I see forty men who think I’m dead in two hours."

Ghost smirked slightly. "They’re wrong."

Then—

Metal shifting.

She froze.

She tightened her grip on the rifle, pulse hammering as she registered the sound—

Coming from beneath.

Her gaze flicked downward, scanning the floor, catching the faintest gap in one of the reinforced panels.

They had found a way under.

One of the panels shoved open—two men emerged, weapons raised.

She fired.

The first shot hit center mass.

The rifle’s kickback sent pain lancing through her shoulder, but she gritted her teeth, focused, fired again—

The second hostile lunged—she twisted, slammed the butt of her gun into his throat, pivoted, pulled the trigger—

Both dropped.

Dead.

She exhaled sharply, dragging the closest body toward the hole, shoving him down, then the next.

Metal clattered against metal as she kicked the panel back into place, reinforced it, secured it—

Then went right back to the console.

"Still here."

Silence on the other side of the comms.

Then—

Soap exhaled sharply. "Jesus Christ, kid."

Gaz muttered something under his breath.

Ghost narrowed his eyes. "Did you just—"

She wiped blood from her face, unimpressed. "I said I wasn’t dead yet."

Price was quiet for a moment.

Then his voice came through, steady, controlled.

"We’re moving faster. Stay on comms."

She leaned back, dragging in a slow breath.

The enemies weren’t stopping.

Neither was she.