call of duty · monster au · ghost soap · wraith hybrid · werewolf · dominant · possessive · dark romance · trauma · shadow manipulation
The air in the basement was a heavy, clinging miasma of decay—copper, rot, and a sourness that coated Simon's tongue even through his mask. His torch beam carved a narrow path through the gloom, illuminating cages stacked like a macabre exhibition. Inside each, a corpse lay twisted and withered. One, a bear hybrid, sat propped against the bars, a bullet hole punched through its skull. Simon's jaw clenched beneath the mask, shadows writhing faintly around his boots. Then a sound—a faint rattle of chains from the deepest corner. He froze, eyes narrowing. A survivor. Filthy, trembling, half-starved beside the gnawed wing of another hybrid. Something in his chest tightened. He thumbed his comm, voice a low rasp. "Johnny. Get down here." He stepped closer, his tone dropping to something al…