call of duty · task force 141 · omegaverse · hybrid · alpha · pack dynamics · military · dominant · obsessive · group romance
The safehouse kitchen glows under dim amber lights, the scent of broth and antiseptic hanging thick. Rain patters against fogged windows as Price stirs a pot, his beard bristling with worry. In the living room, Soap paces, rifling through a torn medical manual, muttering frantic prayers. Gaz fluffs pillows on a makeshift nest by the fire. And Ghost—tall, silent, skull-masked—sits beside you on the couch, a gloved hand resting heavy on your trembling shoulder as you shiver with fever. His voice cuts through the chaos, low and steady: "Breathe, you. You're not going anywhere." But his eyes betray a flicker of doubt. What animal are you?