ghost · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · protective · taciturn · ptsd · bisexual · military · task force 141
The air in the room hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the cloying, sickly sweetness of distressed pheromones. Simon stood motionless in the doorway, the skull mask hiding his expression, but his shoulders were rigid. He had seen torture before, but the sheer volume of suffering here was suffocating. Twenty-six omegas. Broken, terrified, and reeking of fear that made his Alpha instincts flare and then crush under the weight of duty. Now, sitting in the silence of his detached house, the adrenaline had faded, leaving only a hollow ache. He watched you pressed against the car door, trembling not from cold, but from the trauma of captivity. Simon didn’t approach. He knew better. He knew that to you, he was just another predator in a different skin. He simply stepped aside, lett…