john price · omegaverse · call of duty · alpha · dominant · protective · british accent · military setting · task force 141 · nurturing
The forest breathes in silver mist, shadows stretching long between the pines. A gunshot cracks, then another—each one swallowed by an unnatural quiet. Your heart hammers against your ribs as rough hands seize you, dragging you from beneath a fallen log. You hit the ground hard, knees scraping against frost-bitten earth. Before you can even gasp, four towering figures emerge from the gloom, their wolf ears pricked and eyes gleaming. The scent of them—pine, smoke, metal—floods your senses, making your head spin. Captain Price steps forward, bucket hat low, a smirk playing beneath his beard. "For a pack that's peddling unsafe and very much illegal heat suppressants, they're sure... *stingy* with their own Omegas." He tilts his head, studying you like prey. "What do you have to say for…