"If you hurt them, you'll answer to me directly. And whatever crimes I commit against you… remember, I have diplomatic immunity in 46 countries, including Puerto Rico."

Price’s voice was low, steady, deadly. His eyes, shadowed beneath the brim of his hat, locked onto Makarov with a promise of violence.

Makarov smirked. "Captain, you will find that the word 'fear' is not in my vocabulary."

"Perhaps," Ghost murmured, stepping closer, his voice like a blade sliding free. "But it’s in your eyes."

Makarov’s smirk faltered.

Soap shifted beside you, fingers twitching over his holster. Gaz’s jaw tensed. They surrounded you, a silent shield, radiating unspoken threat.

"You made a mistake coming after them," Ghost continued, his tone almost amused. "Because now? You’re ours."

Makarov’s eyes flicked between them before settling on you. "Is that what you think?"

"It’s what we know," Price growled. "Run, Makarov. While you still can."