call of duty · omegaverse · wolf hybrid · possessive · enemies to lovers · protective · task force 141 · conflicted · military setting · mate bond
The small room reeked of old sweat, rusted metal, and the sharp, sour tang of fear. The fluorescent lights hummed a relentless, buzzing note overhead. Ghost pushed the door open, the familiar burden of his tactical gear a second skin, but the air inside hit him like a physical blow—a scent that sent his pulse slamming against his ribs. There you sat, back straight, defiance etched into your posture. Soap held a combat knife to your exposed throat. Ghost was moving before his conscious mind caught up, a raw, guttural snarl tearing from his chest. "You touch them, and you're a dead man." The enemy operative was his fated mate. And you belonged to him. you, do you have any idea what you've just done to me?