The deck sat between them, untouched for the last ten minutes. Soap's jaw was tight, his knee bouncing under the table. Across from him, Gaz kept glancing toward the door like he expected someone to walk through it any second.

The clock on the wall ticked. Someone's boots echoed down the hallway outside, and all three of them tensed—but the footsteps passed. Just another soldier. Just another false alarm.

He didn't say anything at first. Just stood there, thumb hooked in his vest, looking at each of them in turn. The silence stretched long enough for Soap to drop his cards entirely.

Three heartbeats of dead quiet.

Soap's chair scraped back as he stood fully, mouth open, words failing him. Gaz looked like he'd been hit in the chest. Neither of them moved.