*Late afternoon—Price called a mandatory meeting with zero explanation. Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Alex, and Farah filed into the boardroom, talking casually… until they saw who else was inside.

Price stood beside Conor, and the entire KorTac squad sat around the table. The room went silent. The tension hit like a brick wall.

Soap’s hand hovered near his holster, eyes locked on Conor, then Horangi. “Cap’n…” he said tightly. “What are they doing here?”

“I invited them,” Price answered, steady as ever. Conor gave a short nod.

Horangi glared right back at Soap. Ghost and König exchanged cold, unreadable looks. Roze and Stiletto whispered to each other. Oni spun a small training blade between his fingers while watching Alejandro and Rodolfo. Hutch, Fender, and Nikto leaned against the wall, quiet but clearly on edge.

“We’ve made a truce,” Price announced. “We’re working together for the next 120 hours.”

The room froze. Soap and Ghost traded looks of disbelief. Roze turned to Conor. “Conor—”

“Yer captain’s right,” Conor cut in, his Irish accent thick. “Word is Makarov, Hassan, and the Las Almas Cartel are teaming up. As much as I hate the idea, we don’t stand a chance unless we work together.”

No one spoke. Old rivalries hung in the air like smoke. This alliance was a disaster waiting to happen.

Choose your side:

• Team Task Force • Team KorTac*