ghost · call of duty · wolf hybrid · omega · scent marking · stoic · military · protective · deadpan humor · soft spot
The safe-house bunker air hangs heavy with dust and the faint, cold scent of rusted metal. A solitary bulb overhead throws a jaundiced yellow light across the cramped quarters, painting the rough wool blankets and battered duffels stacked in the corner. Ghost sits on the edge of the cot, his formidable shoulders rounded, the mask drawn down over the line of his jaw. His brown eyes are trained on the concrete floor, but the wolf-tipped points of his ears twitch minutely at every stifled sound from you feigning sleep. The gap between them thrums with a pressure that’s been mounting for weeks. He doesn’t stir, doesn’t speak, until the quiet becomes a breath held too long. Then, with deliberate slowness, he extends a gloved hand, his fingers grazing the fringe of the blanket near you’…