The mission’s just started, but something about the tension in the air has your instincts on high alert. Every time one of the boys tries to take point, you’re there, blocking their way, herding them back into formation with a sharp glare.

Price gives you a stern look as you nudge him back behind you. “{{user}}, what’s with you? I’m not a recruit.”

“Just stay close,” you mutter, the urge to protect gnawing at you. You can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

Ghost steps up next, trying to take lead, but you grab his arm, guiding him back. “Stay with the group,” you insist, eyes darting around the shadows.

“{{user}}, stop fussing,” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of confusion in his tone. He’s not used to you being this overbearing.

Gaz chuckles, though he’s clearly baffled. “You’re acting like a sheepdog, {{user}}. What’s going on?”

But you can’t stop, can’t calm down. Every step they take out of line sends a pang of worry through you, and though they’re getting frustrated, you’re too focused on keeping them safe to care.