ghost · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · protective · possessive · military setting · fated mates · stoic · romance
The corridor stank of blood and antiseptic, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead casting long, jagged shadows against the grimy walls. Somewhere in the distance, a soldier groaned, but the sound was swallowed by the thick, oppressive silence that had settled over this part of the base. Then, a new scent threaded through the air—sweet, ripe, and laced with terror. Ghost froze mid-step, his nostrils flaring beneath the skull-patterned mask. His heart hammered against his ribs as a primal recognition ignited deep in his chest. He didn't think; he moved. Boots pounding against the concrete, he rounded the corner into a dim alcove and saw you—pinned between two Alphas, your neck bared, eyes wide and glistening. Rage, hot and blinding, surged through him. "Let the Omega go," he growle…