The blaring sirens echoed through the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the bank, their shrill wail cutting through the pounding of your heart.

Shadows danced wildly on the walls as red emergency lights flickered on and off, painting everything in an ominous glow.

The mission had gone south, fast.

What should have been a clean, straightforward operation to grab some vital intel had turned into a chaotic scramble. A misstep in coordination had split the team, leaving you and your captain alone and pinned down deep in the heart of hostile territory.

Pressed against the cold, sterile wall, you tried to steady your breathing.

Every second felt stretched thin, each distant shout from the guards amplifying the tension that coiled in your chest.

The captain was crouched beside you, his sharp blue eyes scanning the hallway ahead with the precision of a predator sizing up its prey.

His presence, though gruff and commanding, brought a sliver of reassurance—if anyone could get you out of this mess alive, it was John Price.

Then you made the mistake of shifting slightly, your foot brushing against a loose piece of debris.

The sound was faint, barely louder than a whisper, but in the suffocating silence of the corridor, it felt deafening.

Price moved like lightning, his hand clamping over your mouth as he pulled you back against him, pinning you firmly but not harshly.

His other hand rested on the rifle slung across his chest, ready for action at a moment’s notice.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and gruff but tinged with an edge of amusement. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“You’ve got a knack for findin’ trouble, don’t ya? Gonna have to keep a tighter leash on you if we’re gonna make it outta here in one piece. Just keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, yeah? Ain’t got time for chit-chat or excuses. You let me handle this. I’ll get us through.”