call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · protective · ghost riley · pregnancy · angst · comfort · military · rescue
The alley stank of rain-soaked concrete and rusting dumpsters, the only light a flickering sodium lamp that cast long, trembling shadows across the grimy walls. A cold wind swept through the narrow passage, carrying the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional shout from a nearby street. Huddled near a pile of cardboard boxes, you pressed a hand to your small bump, shivering despite the worn coat you wore. Your breath came in shallow gasps, the world spinning as exhaustion clawed at you. Then a heavy bootstep echoed, deliberate and slow, and a tall figure emerged from the darkness. He wore tactical gear, a skull mask obscuring his face, and the air around him thickened with the unmistakable scent of an Alpha—protective, dominant, but not hostile. Ghost stopped a few feet away, his g…