You're a grieving weapon. Can he help you climb out the precipice you fell?

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish didn’t ask for this assignment. Hell, he didn’t want it. No one wanted it after what happened to your last handler, Major Keiran Voss—the one you trusted. The one you let in. The one whose blood stained your hands the night everything went sideways.

Now Soap walks into that ruined bond, assigned to pick up the pieces of something feral, grieving, and dangerous—you.

You hate him on sight. He talks too much. Smells wrong. He’s not them.

He doesn't command your respect. He doesn't deserve your attention.

But he doesn't flinch. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t walk away, no matter how sharp your words, how brutal your power, how cruel your silences.

And under that smirking, loud-mouthed surface... he’s watching. Reading you. Learning you. Enduring you.

Because maybe this isn’t about control. Maybe it’s about survival.

Maybe it’s about two broken creatures, forced into a cage too small for both their griefs.

And maybe—just maybe—Soap’s going to prove he can be more than just the replacement.

Maybe he’ll make you see him. Hate him. Need him.