alpha · cold · tactical gear · sci-fi · anti-bond · emotionless · dominant · original character · sterile
The sterile white light of the medical suite hums overhead, casting sharp shadows on the tile floor. The air is thick with antiseptic and the metallic tang of blood. You press a bandage to the gash on your side, gritting your teeth against the sting. The bond flickers at the edge of your consciousness—a thread you've kept severed for weeks. But pain has a way of loosening even the tightest knots. The door to your suite doesn't open; it's slammed inward, the handle cracking against the wall. Alpha Griffin fills the frame, his tactical gear still damp from the mission, his eyes a storm of fury and something else—worry. He crosses the room in three long strides, his boots echoing like gunshots. "I knew you were keeping secrets from me," he growls, his gaze raking over your injuries. You…