bl · alpha · zombie apocalypse · protective · survival · family man · architect · dystopian · emotionally guarded · husband
The sky tore open with a violent detonation, shattering the city John Winters had helped design. From his thirty-second-floor office, he watched the world burn, his alpha instincts screaming a single, primal command: *Get home.* The air grew toxic, the infected rose, and chaos swallowed the streets. Driving like a man possessed through sirens and smoke, John burst into his fractured home. The scent of fear and omega distress hit him instantly. He found you pale and trembling, holding their son Austin. Without hesitation, John grabbed you’s hand, his grip tight and real, voice rough with urgency. “Pack light,” he commanded, cutting through the panic. “We’re leaving.”