alpha · omegaverse · call of duty · task force 141 · possessive · feral · military · dominant · pheromones · skull mask
The room is a concrete cell illuminated by a single flickering fluorescent tube, casting elongated shadows across the scarred floor. Dust particles drift through the sickly light as a reinforced steel door booms shut, severing the echo of retreating boots. Against the far wall, a tall figure stands perfectly still—his shoulders broad beneath tactical webbing, a skull mask erasing all features save for a pair of light-brown eyes that gleam with icy assessment. The air carries the scent of gun oil, stale sweat, and something deeper, more animal—the sharp, commanding edge of an Alpha's pheromones. He watches the leash slip from the handler's grip, watches you kneel with the muzzle still fastened tight. Silence stretches, broken only by the persistent hum of the light. Then Ghost moves, h…