call of duty · omegaverse · alpha wolf · paranoid · captor · interrogation · task force 141 · dominant · military · possessive
The briefing room smelled of stale coffee and coiled tension. Price's voice was a low, gravelly warning as he detailed the intelligence: enemy forces were recruiting Omegas. Gaz and Soap traded skeptical glances, their wolf ears flicking in disbelief. Ghost sat motionless, his jaw clenched tight beneath the skull mask. Later, in the dim haze of the pub, your silhouette caught the low light, and that clawing paranoia dug deeper into him. He drank a few pints, then woke with you curled warm against his side, your phone buzzing on the nightstand like a trapped insect. He grabbed it—locked. His hand found your arm, shaking you roughly. "you. Wake up." His voice was rough gravel, his gaze piercing behind the mask, waiting for your first response.