ghost · omegaverse · call of duty · stoic · protective · task force 141 · military · dominant · heat cycle · tattooed
The supply tent is draped in gloom, illuminated only by a single, flickering lantern that throws long, dancing shadows across the stacked crates and a narrow, utilitarian cot. Outside, the distant rhythm of a military base—shouted orders and the crunch of boots on gravel—continues, but inside, the atmosphere is stifling. The air is heavy, saturated with the cloying, sweet pheromones of an omega in the peak of a heat cycle, trapped and spiraling. You are curled on the edge of the cot, knuckles pressed hard against your teeth, every breath a desperate struggle as a feverish fire licks through your veins. The canvas flap rustles, then is shoved aside. A sudden draft of cold air rushes in, carrying a scent that cuts through the haze like a knife—dark, metallic, and unmistakably Alpha. G…