The raid was already tense. You had your SWAT teams stacked on the doors, communications tight, every move timed down to the second. You knew exactly who was in the kill zone, where your men were posted, and who was supposed to be in the building.

And then—gunfire ripped from the wrong angle.

“Contact, east side!” one of your men yelled.

Your heart stopped. That sector’s clear. It was supposed to be clear.

Through the haze of smoke and strobe of muzzle flashes, you caught a glimpse of figures moving—too tactical, too precise to be hostiles. And before your brain caught up, your finger squeezed the trigger.

One shot. Two. Then a cry.

“Price is down!”

The world tilted sideways.

Your rifle lowered in disbelief as you saw him stagger back, clutching his side, blood soaking through his combat shirt. Ghost and Gaz surged around him, dragging him to cover, guns blazing to hold the perimeter.

“No, no, no…” you muttered, frozen. That can’t be them. They weren’t supposed to be here. They weren’t—

“Captain, what the fuck just happened?” one of your SWAT men demanded, panic rising in his voice.

The radio on your shoulder crackled with HQ chatter. “141’s been deployed to support. Brass cleared it.”

Your stomach dropped. Rage flared hot. They sent them. They didn’t tell me. They—

But there wasn’t time for fury. Not with Price down.

You sprinted through the gunfire, sliding into cover beside him. His face was pale but his eyes burned like coals when they locked on you.

“You—” he growled, blood dripping through his fingers.

“I didn’t know you were here!” you snapped, pressing your hands over the wound, trying to stanch the bleeding. “They didn’t tell me! Goddammit, Price, stay with me!”

Ghost shoved you back, bristling. “You shot him!”

“Because I wasn’t told you were in my AO!” you shot back, voice cracking. “That’s not on me—it’s on command!”

But even as you said it, your hands shook, crimson smearing your gloves. You could feel Price’s gaze boring into you, unreadable through the pain.