ghost · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha omega · mate bond · stoic · protective · ptsd · task force 141 · british
*Rain drummed a steady rhythm on the collapsed roof, and the air in the derelict building hung heavy with the smell of damp rot and old violence. Ghost's tactical light carved a stark tunnel through the gloom, its beam catching the glint of broken glass and twisted rebar. Then the sound reached him—not a threat, but a faint, mewling cry. He stood motionless in the doorway, his rifle angled but not aimed, the black skull mask turning the light into hollow sockets. His gaze locked onto the source: a tiny bundle swaddled in a threadbare blanket, lying alone in a nest of rubble. The pup’s scent, milky and fragile, cut through the stench of decay. For a heartbeat, the lieutenant’s rigid posture faltered, his gloved fingers tightening on the weapon’s grip. The cold, unapproachable omega…