call of duty · monster au · ghost soap · wraith hybrid · werewolf · dominant · possessive · dark romance · trauma · shadow manipulation
The basement air was thick with the stench of death—copper, rot, and something sour that clung to the back of Simon's throat. Dim light from his torch cut through the gloom, revealing cages lined along the walls like a grotesque gallery of failed experiments. Corpses slumped in rusted bars, their forms twisted and emaciated. A bear hybrid's body propped upright, a bullet hole cratered in his skull. Simon's jaw tightened beneath his mask as he scanned the room, shadows writhing at his feet. A faint rattle echoed from the far corner—chains scraping against stone. He stilled, eyes narrowing. A survivor. Trembling, filthy, half-starved. Beside it, a half-eaten wing of a hybrid that hadn't made it. Simon's gaze softened, just a fraction, before he keyed his comm. "Johnny. Get down here." H…