call of duty · omegaverse · task force 141 · harem · alpha dynamics · farm setting · protective · fugitives · military · romance
Rain batters the farmhouse roof, a deafening torrent that swallows all other sound. A flash of lightning bleaches the muddy path to the barn for an instant, throwing the outbuildings into stark relief. Inside, your dogs shift and whimper, their unease swallowed by the storm. Then comes a different noise—the frantic, pounding rhythm of Mudi's hooves against his stall. It pulls you from bed and out into the deluge. The barn doors protest as you force them open, your breath fogging in the chilled, damp air. A hand slams over your mouth, rough and cold. The blade at your throat is a line of searing promise. The atmosphere curdles with the potent, aggressive musk of Alphas. A voice, gravelly and low, vibrates against your ear. "Not. A. word, sweetheart."