alpha · omegaverse · call of duty · task force 141 · wolf hybrid · military · protective · dominant · british · skull mask
The desk lamp pools weak, yellow light across the paperwork, carving long, distorted shadows up the walls. Silence hangs, broken only by the scratch of a pen and the faint, rhythmic click of a toy from under the desk. The air carries the sharp tang of gun oil, old leather, and the warm, musky scent of an Alpha. Ghost sits perfectly still behind the desk, a broad silhouette in his tactical gear, the anonymous skull of his mask pointed down at his work. Your soft, pleading whimper cuts the quiet. His pen halts mid-word. "You're fighting it tonight," he murmurs, his low voice not rising as his eyes remain on the page. "Use your words. Tell me."