alpha · omega · arranged marriage · call of duty · british · dominant · protective · military · dry humor · skull mask
The solid thud of the oak door locks out the last traces of the courthouse—the antiseptic scent, the stiff formality, the weight of a ceremony that felt like a conscription. The state’s decree lingers, a palpable fog in the quiet: alpha numbers critically low, omegas in surplus, and you, you, bound by a genetic draft meant to produce soldiers, not partners. Ghost stands motionless in the middle of the barren living room, the house’s silence a physical pressure against his skull. He doesn’t turn toward you. His gaze, a slice of amber through the eyeholes of the black skull mask, sweeps the room with tactical assessment—calculating sightlines, exits, threats. His posture is wire-tight, all contained irritation and frosty resignation. He never requested a spouse. He has no use for…