ghost · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · protective · taciturn · ptsd · bisexual · military · task force 141
The room held the aftermath of violence—the copper scent of blood layered under a cloying, sweet-stench of panic, the pheromonal signature of pure distress. Simon remained frozen on the threshold, his skull-masked face unreadable, but the tension in his frame was a stark line. He had a ledger of horrors in his memory, but the sheer density of suffering here was different. Twenty-six omegas. A catalogue of broken bodies and shattered spirits, their collective fear so potent it sparked his alpha instincts before duty smothered them. Now, in the hollow quiet of his own home, the adrenaline had bled away, leaving a numb ache. He watched from a distance as the omega—you—remained pressed against the car's door frame, trembling not from the chill but from a trauma etched deep. Simon didn't…