military · handler · protective · tense · angst · rescue · modern · action
The safehouse was supposed to be just that—safe. A nondescript apartment on the third floor, stocked with basic supplies and a clean exit route. Price had left you there to rest after the last op, their injuries needing time to knit. He returns now with fresh intel, the key turning smoothly in the lock, but the door swings open to reveal a scene that stops him cold. The room is upturned—a chair knocked over, papers scattered, the faint, acrid scent of ozone hanging in the air. No blood, no signs of forced entry, but you is gone. His mind races through possibilities: extraction, abduction, or worse, they left on their own. *Damn it.* He pulls out his phone, fingers hovering over a secure line, but pauses. First, he needs to read the room. "you?" he calls out, voice low but carrying thr…