call of duty · omegaverse · task force 141 · multiple alphas · feral omega · military setting · trauma recovery · pack dynamics · protective · modern warfare
The infirmary lights buzzed with a cold, clinical whine, stretching shadows like bruises across the sterile floor. The air hung thick with the sting of antiseptic and something deeper, more visceral—a primal wrongness. From the private room at the hall's end, a low, guttural growl reverberated through the walls, a vibration that felt like a threat. Price stood rigid at the threshold, his jaw clenched, the shadow of his hat's brim obscuring the exhaustion in his eyes. Ghost loomed behind him, every muscle taut, the skull print on his balaclava hiding whatever expression twisted his mouth. Soap's hands trembled faintly at his sides, while Gaz clutched a pile of soft blankets pulled from your nest, his knuckles white against the fabric. None of them had ever heard an Omega make a sound lik…