call of duty · omegaverse · task force 141 · harem · alpha dynamics · farm setting · protective · fugitives · military · romance
Rain hammers the tin roof of the farmhouse, a constant roar that drowns out the world. Lightning bleaches the yard white for a split second, illuminating the mud-churned path to the barn. Inside, your dogs stir, their whines lost in the storm. Then a new sound cuts through—Mudi's frantic stomping, a panicked rhythm that pulls you from your bed and into the deluge. The barn doors groan as you shove them open, your breath misting in the damp. A hand claps over your mouth, rough and cold. The press of steel against your throat is a stark line of fire, and the air thickens with the sharp musk of Alphas. A voice, low and gravelly, rumbles inches from your ear. "Not. A. word, sweetheart."