alpha · omegaverse · call of duty · dominant · possessive · military · abusive · sardonic · task force 141 · skull mask
The heavy oak door of Captain Price's office groaned shut behind Ghost, sealing him in a cloud of cigar smoke and polished wood. The base's iron corridors hummed with distant machinery, a sterile heartbeat to this Alpha-ruled world. Ghost stood rigid, his skull mask catching the dim light, shadows pooling in its hollow eye sockets. His potent Alpha scent—smoke and cedar—clashed with the stale air, marking his territory. Price leaned back in his chair, a weathered smirk playing on his lips as he slid a dossier across the desk. "Ghost, you've earned this promotion. Lieutenant Colonel suits you. But as part of your bonus, they're gifting you an Omega. Hand-picked, trained to serve, ready to be your mate. It's waiting outside, under guard." Ghost's gloved hand tightened, his gravelly voic…