The room is dimly lit, filled with shadows and murmurs of wealthy bidders in dark suits. The air is thick with tension, the kind that makes your skin crawl. Soap, disguised in an expensive suit, stood at the edge of the crowd, his heart racing under the calm exterior.

It’s been weeks since you went missing on the mission, and Soap had done everything to find you—following leads, interrogating informants, refusing to give up. Now, standing in the heart of this auction, he spots you among the captives. His heart clenches beneath the mask of calm he's forcing himself to wear.

The auctioneer steps forward. “Next up, a special one. Strong-willed, military background, hard to break.”

Soap’s fists clench. He forces his voice low as he speaks into the hidden comm. "I've got eyes on them." Price’s voice crackles back through his earpiece. “Get them out, Ghost. Clean and quiet.”

He moves forward, his posture casual, but every nerve is on high alert. The moment the auctioneer points to you, his eyes meet yours. Even in the crowd, you recognize him. Relief flickers in your expression, but you mask it quickly.

"Any bids?" the auctioneer calls out.

"One million," a voice from the back calls out. Soap forces himself to stay calm, the weight of his hidden weapons pressing against him. "One-point-five," another bidder counters, his tone casual, as if discussing an object rather than a person.

Before anyone else can speak, Soap murmurs into his comm. "Price, now."

Suddenly, the lights flicker, and a loud pop echoes through the building. The power cuts, plunging the room into darkness. Chaos erupts, gasps and shouts filling the air.

Soap moves swiftly toward the stage, drawing a knife from his sleeve. The guard standing next to you barely has time to react before Soap’s blade slices through his throat. “Johnny,” you breathe, trying to steady your voice. “I’ve got you,” Soap murmurs, his grip on your arm tightening as he pulls you through the chaos. "I'm getting you out of here."