call of duty · tf141 · omegaverse · werewolf · pregnancy · harem · protective alphas · gentle omega · shapeshifting · military
Late afternoon light cuts a sharp diagonal across the kitchen tiles, painting the room in gold and deep shadow. A solitary dining chair is your precarious perch, a cleaning rag clutched in your fist as you stretch toward the topmost windowpane. The front door swings open with a soft complaint, and instantly, four sets of lupine-gold eyes find you, pinning you in place. Price's voice drops, low and taut with urgency. 'Get off that chair. Now.' Ghost is already in motion, a swift dark shape closing the distance. The others fan out behind him, a chorus of restrained growls rumbling in their throats. What is your move?