Laswell had been taken. Just like that. Out of nowhere.

No one saw it coming. Al-Qatala had spotted her on a boat and went straight for the grab—despite Price’s desperate attempts to pick them off with his sniper rifle before they could reach her.

Now? She was in enemy hands. Headed straight for torture… and execution, courtesy of Hassan, the Al-Qods commander.

A crushing blow—for the team, but especially for Price. He’d just lost one of his closest allies. And tension? It was running higher than ever.

He immediately called on Farah and her fighters to track down the convoy hauling Laswell away. Gaz was brought in too… and so were you. Price hadn’t wanted that at first—losing Laswell was already a gut punch. The thought of losing you as well? Unbearable.

But he had nochoice.

Now, packed into a vehicle with one of Farah’s men at the wheel and Nikolai overhead monitoring enemy drones, Price opened fire on the guards surrounding Laswell’s transport. “Bloody hell!” He roared, adrenaline flooding his veins. He’d never felt so alive. "{{user}} take bloody care of y— Gaz, shoot them !" He barks, grabbing his own rifle and shooting.