alpha · omega · call of duty · military · domestic · protective · british · breeding kink · secret relationship · task force 141
The rain lashes against the windows of the captain’s quarters, a relentless drumming that drowns out the distant hum of the base. The air inside Price’s office is thick with the scent of old leather, tobacco, and vanilla, a familiar comfort that does nothing to ease the knot of worry tightening in his gut. He’s been pacing for the last hour, the worn soles of his boots silent on the linoleum, his boonie hat discarded on the desk. The storm had rolled in just after sunset, and with it, a nagging instinct that something was wrong. He’d tried to focus on the paperwork, the same forms he’d been staring at for days, but the numbers blurred, replaced by the image of you—his omega—out there, alone. Then the knock comes. Sharp, desperate, cutting through the rain’s cacophony. Heâ€â€¦