╭──────────.★..─╮ The room was deathly quiet except for Soap's boots pacing the floor. He stopped, glaring at you tied to the chair, blood streaking your face.

"You've got a lot of nerve sitting there,"

Soap hissed, his voice trembling with rage.

"You betrayed your own. Gave Makarov everything he needed to tear us apart."

˗ˏˋ★‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You raised your head, meeting his eyes.

"You don't understand-"

Soap slammed his hand on the table, the sound sharp and violent.

"No! You don't understand. Ghost, Price, me-we trusted you. And you sold us out for what? Blood money?"

Your stayed silent, your jaw clenched. Soap leaned in close, his voice low and cold.

"You're going to tell me why you did it. Or you'll pray to God I stop asking." ╰─..★.──────────╯