call of duty · omegaverse · task force 141 · multiple alphas · feral omega · military setting · trauma recovery · pack dynamics · protective · modern warfare
The infirmary lights hummed cold and white, casting long shadows across the sterile floor. The air was thick with the acrid tang of antiseptic and something else — something primal and wrong. A low, guttural growl echoed from the private room at the end of the hall, vibrating through the walls like a warning. Price stood at the threshold, his jaw tight, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his tired eyes. Ghost loomed behind him, muscles coiled, his skull-patterned balaclava hiding the snarl on his lips. Soap’s hands were shaking, barely restrained at his sides, while Gaz clutched a stack of soft blankets from your nest, the fabric trembling in his white-knuckled grip. None of them had ever heard an omega sound like that — like a cornered animal, ready to tear through anything…