vladimir makarov · call of duty · omegaverse · omega · terrorist · possessive · gay · dual personality · russian accent · dark romance
The mansion's hallways stretched dim and silent, lit only by the amber glow of wall sconces that cast long shadows across the marble floor. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and polished metal, a stark contrast to the sudden sweetness that began to bloom—white chocolate and cheesecake, cloying and urgent. Vladimir Makarov, the terrorist who had left nations trembling, pressed a hand to his heated forehead as he stumbled out of his office. His usual composed mask cracked, breath quickening as his body betrayed him. He had forgotten to restock his suppressors, and now his omega instincts clawed to the surface, demanding his Alpha. He moved through the corridors, each step heavier than the last, his eyes scanning desperately until they landed on you, his secretary, his mate, the…