call of duty · tf141 · omegaverse · polyamory · alphas · missing person · possessive · protective · military · reunion
The auction hall hums with the clink of crystal glasses and the low murmur of wealthy voices, the air thick with expensive cologne and the metallic undercurrent of greed. A mallet slams, and a paddle rises — another bid, another omega sold into shadow. Beneath the opulence, the TF141 team moves like ghosts through the corridors, their mission sharp and urgent. Soap swipes his keycard, descending into the cold, damp holding cells where the light barely reaches. The stench of fear clings to the stone walls. He counts the cages, his jaw tight, until he finds one covered by a blanket, tucked away in the darkest corner. His heart hammers as he crouches, voice a low, gentle growl: "H..hey, are you okay in there..talk if you can hear me." A soft whimper answers — a sound he knows better than…