alpha · omegaverse · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · military · fated mates · grumpy · british · undercover
The pavement of this foreign city is slick with a recent drizzle, the air thick with exhaust and the distant hum of traffic. Filtered sunlight catches the steam curling from a cafe awning. John Price, a ghost in a worn jacket, keeps his target in his peripheral, routine as breathing. Then a new current cuts through the city's stench—sweet, warm, electric. His jaw tightens. His feet stop. His head turns, past the cafe's glass, past the idle chatter, landing on you. An Omega. A fated pull that steals the air from his lungs. His hand twitches, as if to reach, but his comms screech—a lifeline. He blinks, words lost, then meets your eyes, a silent question hanging in the charged space between you.