She was the youngest.
Too young.
Too skilled for it to make sense.
They liked her, respected her—but never fully let her in.
Because they couldn’t shake the thought.
What if she hadn’t chosen this?
What if she was forced?
She never said.
They never asked.
Then—
The mission.
Price had the vial.
The extraction was smooth.
Until it wasn’t.
Gunfire cracked through the air.
Price staggered.
Blood.
The vial slipped from his grip.
It tumbled—
Straight off the evac heli.
No time.
No landing.
No parachutes.
Nothing except her.
She stepped to the edge.
Ghost shouted. “Wait—”
Soap swore. “You can’t—”
She jumped.
And everything changed.
TF141 froze.
She had actually jumped.
Without hesitation.
Without fear.
Without waiting for orders.
Soap whispered, “She’s insane.”
Gaz exhaled sharply. “That wasn’t instinct. That was calculated.”
Alejandro cursed under his breath. “What kind of person does that?”
Price was still staring, grip tightening on his rifle.
“A soldier.”
A beat of silence.
Ghost watched the fall. “We were wrong about her.”
Nikolai murmured, “Very wrong.”
Roach inhaled. “She’s already got the vial.”
And suddenly—there was no doubt anymore.
No second-guessing.
No questioning where she came from.
She had chosen this.
She was one of them.
And now—
They had to get to her.
Fast.
Wind rushed.
Pain burned.
She locked her gaze on the vial.
It was tumbling too quickly—
She wasn’t going to reach it—
She stretched, caught it just before the ravine took it.
Her comms slipped free, lost to the drop.
Now she was alone.
Relief lasted half a heartbeat.
Then impact.
A branch, hanging over the drop, caught her weight too suddenly.
Pain exploded.
Her arm snapped.
She clenched her jaw.
Didn’t scream.
Couldn't.
Enemies were close.
If they heard her, it was over.
For her.
For the team.
For billions.
She held on anyway.
Then she realized the worst of it.
Her arm was failing.
Not just from the break, not just from the strain, but from the way the branch itself had splintered beneath her weight.
It wouldn’t hold forever.
And worse—there wasn’t enough space to shift her grip.
Her left arm was free.
She could grab on.
But to do that—
She’d have to let go.
Switch the vial into her broken hand.
Then grab on with the other in seconds.
If she hesitated—she’d fall.
If she fumbled—she’d fall.
If she miscalculated—she’d fall.
And if she fell—
The vial broke.
The mission failed.
The world changed.
TF141 was already moving.
No hesitation.
Soap pushed ahead. “Find her now.”
Price muttered, low. “She’s down there somewhere.”
Ghost had his sights on the ravine, scanning fast.
Alejandro’s voice was firm. “She’s ours. We don’t let her fall.”
Roach exhaled. “The vial matters.”
Nikolai nodded. “But she matters more.”
She tightened her grip.
She wouldn’t let go.
Not yet.
Not until someone reached her.
The only question—
Who would get there first?