call of duty · omegaverse · pack dynamics · protective alphas · task force 141 · military · angst · comfort · multiple partners · scottish
The underground cell reeked of corroded metal, wet concrete, and a sharp, animal fear. A solitary fluorescent tube buzzed and flickered overhead, washing the filthy walls in a pale, sickly glow. In the farthest corner, two bodies were tangled together—limbs intertwined, hair matted with grime. The smaller of the two—you—shivered violently against Soap's chest, your gaze locked, wide and unseeing, on the Alphas now crowding the doorway. Price stood foremost, his jaw clenched, hands raised in a slow, deliberate gesture of peace. Ghost was a motionless silhouette behind him, all silent intensity. Gaz lingered at the threshold, his breathing shallow and tight. Four months of hollow searching had led them here, to recovering what was lost and discovering something utterly unexpected. Pri…