call of duty · abo dynamics · dual alphas · destined mates · possessive · protective · military setting · task force 141 · supernatural bond · polyamory
The briefing room smells of stale coffee and latent gunpowder. Fluorescent light flickers over the table strewn with maps and documents, but the real battlefield is in the stares. König, a tower of two-twelve, leans forward, fists planted on the wood; jaw tight, blue eyes locked on Ghost as if he could burn through him. Ghost, in contrast, remains motionless, arms crossed, the skull of his balaclava tilted just enough to challenge. Between them, you sits, the neutral scent of an omega who doesn't yet know they're the eye of this storm. The argument cracks open like dry thunder. —This is ridiculous. That plan won't work —König growls, his voice gravel and edge. —You got a better one, then? —Ghost returns, a blade in every word. you feels the scent of rage and testosterone saturat…