Ezzie's Stuff

You nodded weakly, turning to Soap beneath you. You felt a surge of pride as your eyes caught on the claim mark you'd given him, a few inches away from Ghost’s. He had a dopey smile on his face as he cupped your cheek and pulled you down for a lingering kiss. Then he sat up, taking you with him, and turned you around in his arms. “How about this? I’m liking the warmth right now.”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easily, Sergeant,” rumbled Ghost. “Come here.” Soap smiled, easing you off of him after a final lick to your nape, and then clambered over to Ghost. 

You watched them move in for a searing kiss before your attention turned to Gaz crawling closer to you. He lifted his hand, tracing patterns over your skin, down your chest, brushing your navel to your groin, then back up, torturously slow. “My turn,” he crooned, before spreading your legs wider for him, moving in between them.

Price shuffled over until he was on his knees behind Gaz. You couldn’t see exactly what he was doing with his hand back there, but Gaz’s head throwing back to rest on his chest, gasping sharply, told you enough. Price rumbled, almost a purr. “Thought we could try something if you don’t mind.”

Gaz smiled, though it quickly dripped as his mouth formed an O, and he nodded. He shuffled a little closer to you, gripping his cock in one hand while he panted heavily over you, Price still prepping him from behind. He teased your entrance with his head, using Soap’s cum to slick himself up, the idea obscenely hot to you but difficult to focus on as Gaz slipped inside. You both moaned softly, your body already feeling another surge of energy as you were filled again. Gaz was a little shorter than Soap but thicker, the veins of his cock massaging your sensitive walls so nicely you cried out. He paused for only a second before drawing back and thrusting back in, keeping his movements slow and smooth. Your moans mixed in with the ones beside you. Soap was on his hands and knees, facing you, while Ghost pumped into him from behind, each snap of his hips punctuated by a sharp grunt. His eyes, dark and hungry, were focused between your legs as Gaz continued to thrust into you.

Price shuffled up behind Gaz, his chest already rising and falling fast, grabbing Gaz's hip to still him. Price looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with you. “Both my boys spread out for me…” he trailed off with a growl before pushing himself inside Gaz, whose body locked up between you, head falling forward. When Price was buried fully, he murmured against his skin. “Go on, move. Nice and slow, just how you like it.” Gaz followed his instructions, pulling out of you and pressing himself back against John, moaning breathily as he found a rhythm. He was less precise than before; pleasure making him lose control, but the feeling of him in you, the sight as he broke apart between you and Price had you gushing around him, the squelch of slick and cum and Gaz’s pre making an obscene sound every time his hips met your ass.

He moved faster, pounding into you; your hips rose to meet his as best you could in your fucked-out state. “Fuck,” he said, his voice a half-moan, half-whine as he started fucking between the two of you. Price's quiet grunts blended with your drawn-out moans as you felt yourself getting close for a second time. Words slurred, you couldn’t even get out a warning before you came again, tightening around Gaz’s cock in a way that made his hips stutter. Through your eyes, blurry with tears, you saw Price start to move behind Gaz, harder, faster, drawing a moan from him. He half collapsed on top of you, holding himself up by the forearms as Price fucked into him, pushing into you too, Gaz’s knot catching on your hole, sliding in and out halfway, still stretched from Soap using you not long before. You used to position yourself to nip at Gaz's neck, a questioning bite. As soon as he nodded, you sank your teeth in, making his breath hitch. “I’m close,” he groaned out. 

“That’s it. Good boy. Almost there, Skunk. "Good omega,” Price heaped on the praise, and you started purring, his heavy thrusts into you disrupting the continuous sound. Finally, Gaz’s knot popped in fully, and he groaned, body pulling taut as he came inside you and around Price’s cock, slumping forward until his weight lay on top of you. As soon as you released his neck from your mouth, he turned his head and returned the favour, the initial sharp pain turning into euphoria as he marked you.

Chests heaving, you lay there. You didn’t notice when Price moved to your side, kissing both your and Gaz’s foreheads intermittently. Dazedly, you watched Soap and Ghost beside you; Ghost was hovering over Soap as he thrust into him in long and sloppy pumps that made Soap grasp the sheets on the bottom of your nest. Then, with a final groan, his hips stopped, hands digging into Soap’s sides as he came, neck taught and jaw clenched. Soap whined as he pulled out before slumping to his side with a dazed smile. Ghost leaned down to kiss him, tongues dancing heatedly despite just finishing. Then Ghost’s heavy gazed turned to you. He reached out of the nest, grabbing water bottles. He handed one to Soap beside him, then crawled over to where you lay with Price and Gaz. He uncapped the bottle in his hand and, gently raising your chin, tilted the water into your mouth. You hadn't even known how parched you’d been, desperate to finally have them. “There you go,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Drink up.” You followed his orders, his attention a blanket to your senses, your omega holding onto his every word. His broad chest, crisscrossed with scars like the rest of him, was coated in blond hairs that looked softer than they had any right to be on a man who looked like he could snap someone in half. 

He pulled the bottle away, lifting Gaz’s head up and giving him some as well while his knot started to deflate. Soap got up, moving to your other side, handing his bottle over to Price, while Ghost screwed the cap back on yours and picked up a towel. He patted your body, covered in a mix of slick, sweat, and cum, until you were relatively dry again. You turned to Gaz beneath you, who was already looking at you. “Hey,” he croaked. He kissed his mating bite, and it sent a jolt through you. You hummed in response and buried your face in his neck, taking in his scent, calm, pleasured, and satisfied. You couldn't comprehend how it could both satisfy you and make you feel like you'd never get enough. You clenched at the thought, and Gaz moaned weakly against your skin. 

You turned to face Gaz, Price still beside you both, watching you. “Love you,” you said in a whisper. Gaz pecked you on the lips. Price kissed Gaz’s temple, then yours, still rumbling beside you. His eyes raked over your body, and you clenched again, remembering he hadn’t bitten you yet, either. The bond between you and the pack as a whole wouldn't be complete until the pack alpha – John – bit you as well. Usually they did it first, and the fact that he’d be last was a strange form of torture; every bite from the others was taking you higher.

Finally, Gaz’s knot deflated enough for him to slip free, and you were empty again. Your body immediately started fidgeting again, the cramp in your stomach unsated still. You squeezed your legs together at the feeling of cum flowing from your hole down your thighs, and Ghost, who’d been wiping you down, chuckled darkly. Just like when you’d first entered the nest, Ghost picked you up with such ease it made you whine out loud – at that point too far gone to hold your sounds back – and laid you on your back first. He stared at you for a few moments before letting out a growl, eyes zeroed in on your cock, which stirred to life under his hungry gaze, skin and bush covered in your release. He hunched over and, without fanfare, grabbed you at the base and started lapping it up. You seized, hips unsure whether to thrust up or move away from his licks to your spent dick, still sensitive from cumming twice despite already getting harder under his attention. His eyes were closed, face relaxed, as he enjoyed you. 

It didn’t last long before he leaned back and flipped you onto your stomach, hands moving to spread your cheeks apart and show him your hole. “Look at that,” he said. “Fucking leaking.” He pressed two fingers in, your rim stretched and ready, and you moaned into the sheets. He pumped them a few times, then pulled them out. You jumped as he replaced them with his tongue, lapping at Soap and Gaz’s cum dripping from you just like he’d done your cock, groaning as he tasted it from you. He started with long swipes, occasionally moving to pick up what had already leaked to your thighs before moving back to your rim. You lifted your hips up weakly as he moved in circles, pressing in at the end, each time more insistently than the last until he was fucking you with his tongue, the slick pouring out of you again, always giving him more to clean up. 

You turned your head to the side, the sheets below you getting slick with drool, too overwhelmed to keep your mouth shut. Price was sat up, looking down at you, one hand threaded through Soap’s hair as he bobbed up and down on his cock. Gaz crouched behind Soap, his ass exposed to you, lapping at Soap’s hole while Ghost did the same to you. Your body heat ratcheted up, eyes blurring with tears as the sight before you and what Simon was doing to you made you desperate. “Alpha,” you whined through a broken voice. “Si, please.” 

With another growl that sent vibrations through you, he lapped one more stripe up your hole and then stopped, pulling back. You almost regretted saying anything; you immediately felt so cold without him pressed against you. But within seconds you almost wept with joy as he lay on you fully, thighs bracketing yours, cock sliding between your cheeks. “You want it?” he rumbled. You nodded frantically, looking from the trio in front of you over your shoulder to him. His brows were furrowed and eyes dark, immediately locking onto yours. He kept that eye contact as he pushed the head of his dick inside. He was big. Thicker than Soap, maybe a little longer than Gaz. Even with being fucked twice, you felt the stretch, his dick massaging your walls in a way that made those stubborn tears fall, a drawn-out whine falling from you. His teeth gritted as he stopped partway, pulling back and scissoring further forward with each stroke. Your head fell down, unable to even keep it up as waves of pleasure overtook you. He leaned down, panting hot against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he groaned as he reached the base of his knot. He stayed like that for a while, weight pressing you down, grounding you, letting you feel the stretch and the heaviness of his cock. Everything felt fuzzy and warm. You didn’t know if you wanted him to stay like that forever or start moving already. He pressed a kiss on either side of your nape, where Soap and Gaz’s marks were. Then, he moved up to your scent gland on the right, licking a stripe up it that made you clench around him. “Gonna knot you and bite you right here. You want that?” You moaned, nodding again, words slurring incomprehensibly. “Good omega,” he said. 

He pulled his hips back until his tip was catching on your rim, then slammed back in so hard you were pushed forward in the nest, nudging into your prostate. Your back arched as you keened. Your face was soaked in drool and tears, the room fading as he pulled back and thrust in, hitting the spot again and again until there was nothing but the feeling of his weight on you, his cock keeping you open and full, his scent so charged with lust it drove your own higher. Your hole spasmed, overwhelmed, but his pace never faltered, spearing you open for him as you trembled into the sheets, moans only broken by the snap of his hips. Your senses beyond his cock only returned when you felt a hand on your head. Price was looking between you two with a smile, stroking your hair while Ghost fucked you like he did when you visited him in the office or gave him dinner. The combination of Ghost’s thrusts, hard and fast, and the lazy pace of Price’s hand, tore at your mind, making you lean more into both, tears still flowing from your eyes. You felt boneless, limbs hanging at your sides. Then, Price looked up at Ghost and nodded. Ghost picked you up again, slipping out of you to turn you around and seat you in his lap, facing him. You slumped onto him, head resting on his chest, but your hole still clenched around nothing. He was rumbling, his chest still rising and falling harshly, cock still hard under you. “Too much?” he said as Price kissed the back of your neck. You shook your head. You needed it. Him. All of them, as tired as you felt. “Good boy.” You whined weakly at the praise. He slipped back inside, this time much easier after being fucked open, and you both moaned. 

Then, Price stood up, walking behind Ghost and crouching back down, cock heavy between his legs. Ghost leaned back into Price’s chest, taking your ass in his hands. Price had one hand in Ghost’s hair, another on his cock, stroking it slowly as he looked down at both of you. “That’s it, both of you,” he said. “Keep going.” Ghost lifted you up slightly, then started rutting into you, sharp thrusts that hit your prostate more with the new angle. You couldn’t hold yourself up, his hands the only thing keeping you from sinking against him completely. You leant up as best you could, wrapping your arms around his waist, hand by his back brushing against Price behind him. He angled to the side, taking your hand in his and wrapping it around his cock, still staring at you. Simon tilted his head back to the side, kissing Price as he pumped into you and you pumped John’s cock, groaning into each other’s mouths as you moaned into Simon’s shoulder. You looked to the side; Soap and Gaz were lying next to each other, jerking each other off as they watched you three. Their moans joined with yours, the smacking of Simon's and John’s lips in your ear, the slick and precum building up again in your hole and squelching every time Simon’s knot caught against your rim, and you were on the edge, voice turning high and breathy as you came again. You gave in, hole clenching, and turned, sinking your fangs into Simon’s shoulder, inner omega melting as you tasted his skin and felt him shudder beneath you. You vaguely felt him turn his head, breaking the kiss from John as he groaned low in his throat and started fucking you harder, your orgasm being dragged out even further. Your fingers tightened around John’s cock, making him growl in half-pleasure, half-pain, before they went slack. He let your hand in his grip loosen, stroking slowly, even as Simon started fucking you faster. You let his nape go from your mouth before the jolt of him fucking you made your teeth tear at his skin and licked at the wound between whines. His grunts filled your ears, his knot pushing further and further into you until it popped in, and he spilt, filling you up. You both moaned, Simon’s head falling forward, and then he bit into your neck, fangs sliding deep, the sharpness giving away to pleasure as you became mated, the bond between you complete. His rumbling picked up, vibrating through you as he held there for a few seconds, then let you go.

You panted fast, chest rising and falling against Simon’s chest as John let your hand go, cupping your face with his other and leaning down for a kiss. “You’re doing so good for us, omega,” he said against your lips before pulling back, swiping the tears from your cheeks. You moaned softly. Words had left you. John’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at you before kissing your forehead, letting Ghost slump further into his chest. 

Gaz and Soap had seemingly cum while you were distracted, as you only noticed them when they walked over, Soap holding a water bottle and Gaz a towel. You could barely raise your head, looking at Simon with glassy eyes as his rumbling vibrated through you, his cock twitching, his knot keeping you joined together as you both basked in the post-mating glow. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen him look at you, and the tears started up again. It wasn’t over; Price still needed to mark you, but, beneath the heat still coursing just under your skin, came a wash of relief. Safety. Your inner omega and you had never felt more in sync; the instincts you’d spent your life moulding into something for others, then only being used as a weapon, were finally being let free and met with love from them. You tilted your head as Ghost leaned down into a lingering, gentle kiss while Gaz towelled you both off as best he could while you were still joined together. He cupped your jaw when Ghost pulled away, kissing you too. “You alright there?” His tone was teasing, his face nothing but reverent.

You nodded. Soap sat beside you and Ghost, giving Ghost a drink of water, murmuring in his ear between peppering kisses all over his face, while Gaz licked at his mark on your shoulder, smiling into your skin. Price leant down from behind Simon and kissed Gaz’s nape, where you knew his pack mark was. You watched as Gaz’s eyes fluttered shut. You weren’t sure you’d ever get over the rush every time you were reminded of the marks. As he pulled back and Soap lifted the water bottle to your lips, your eyes moved from Gaz to him to Ghost, your bites on them just as theirs were on you, and you felt the coil in your stomach, not quite eased, rise with satisfaction. Ghost twitched inside you, the both of you letting out a soft moan, his hand moving up to between your shoulder blades while his knot started to deflate. 

Soap leaned in for his kiss. “You’ve taken us so well, bonnie,” he said, voice gravelly. You hummed in response, voice wrecked. He pressed another peck to your lips and then pulled back, looking up at Price, who still had Ghost in his arms. It was impressive, how he managed to make Ghost – 90 kg and taller than even him – look small. He kissed Simon’s forehead, Simon relaxing even further in his hold as he watched you all. As he caught you looking, he smiled, hunger clear in his eyes.

“You ready for me?” asked John.

You nodded, whining softly as Ghost lifted you up from his lap and sat beside Gaz and Soap, who were already moving to the edge of your nest to watch. You hadn’t even noticed when his knot had deflated, and you’d moved on to cockwarming him. He was still half-hard but looked content as he lay you on your back and made way for Price, who crawled around Soap, pressing a heated nip to Soap’s nape that made him moan, and settled himself between your legs. You felt so shaky, limbs weak but mind in the clouds, and all you could see was his face looking down at you; the warmth of his thighs as he settled himself just at your arse; and the heat of his cock, still thick and heavy after waiting all that time, resting against yours. He grinded, a slow roll of his hips as he frotted your cocks together, your oversensitivity and all the slick covering your length making the glide melt whatever thread still held you together. You were so boneless you couldn’t even squirm from the overwhelming pleasure of it, only look up at him through tear-filled eyes as he did it again and again. 

It felt like he was playing with an exposed nerve, too much, bordering on pain. You’d have given him anything to finally put his cock in you, but all you could do was gasp and babble. He leaned down, pressing his weight onto you, nuzzling into your nape, the free spot beside Gaz’s bite where his would be. “Gonna mark you right here,” he growled. “Remember my knot? Hmm?” You nodded, the memories of his rut, the way he held you close and stuffed you full of his cum in his room back on base rushing back through the haze of your mind. "Want it again?” he asked. You moaned in response, feeling the head at your entrance. He didn’t tease you anymore; Ghost’s cum allowed him to slide inside you in one slow thrust. He groaned against your skin as he reached his knot, resting on you further, keeping you in the present even when all you wanted to do was float. One hand was massaging your ass, the other at the back of your neck as he pressed kisses along it. You tilted your head back, though if it was so he had more access to kiss or to bite, you weren’t sure. He growled again, the submission seeming to be his breaking point as he pulled his hips back and thrust back into you. He kept his pace slow, his strokes so smooth you had nothing to do but relax into it, into him. He rested his head on your shoulder, pace not picking up in speed but getting harder, the slap as his hips met yours getting louder along with his grunts every time his balls hit your ass, his knot caught your rim, catching more and more until he was almost fucking you with it.

Whines and purrs left you, broken by the pounding you were taking, but his neck was there at your side. You turned your head, licking and nipping at his nape, not breaking skin but questioning. He rumbled. “Go on, omega,” he crooned. “Mark me. You’re next.” You moaned at his words, fangs feeling heavy in your mouth, the idea of being able to do this to the pack alpha giving you a small surge of energy. You sloppily raised your hips the best you could to meet his thrusts, a groan leaving him, then sank your teeth in. Your eyes rolled back into your head, and you clenched around his cock as his hips slammed in, harder than before at the feeling. His skin was salty from exertion, his scent heavy on your tongue, and then you were cumming on his cock, back arching, a high keen leaving your throat against his neck. He growled, his speeding up and then stopping, instead grinding into you until his knot popped in. You released him from your mouth with a scream, his tip hitting your prostate, knot stretching your walls and pushing you over the edge you hadn’t even left yet. He tilted his head, pressing a final kiss to your nape before biting into it, groaning when you tightened around his cock again, milking him as he spilt inside. Your vision went white; all you could feel was the heat of him as you lost consciousness.

The first thing that came to your senses when you woke up was the smell. Sex, joy, and heat – all still were heavy in the air, five scents joined into one that left you wanting to bottle it. The next was warmth. Then, the fact that there were a lot of limbs tangled on and around you. Then, voices, low, as if trying to keep quiet. Then, a laugh that forgot how to be. You opened your eyes. The room was dimmer. Turns out you were resting on a thigh, which, when you looked up, you found belonged to Soap. He stopped laughing when he saw you, tilting his head. “Morning, bonnie,” he said.

You didn’t answer immediately, gathering your bearings and looking around. Ghost was on the other side of him, mask still off. He raised a brow teasingly at you when he caught your eye. The arms around your middle pulled away as you moved onto your back and turned, and were met with a kiss before you could see who it was. You caught Price pulling back with a smirk, settling next to Gaz again, who’d been pressed to your back. “Is it actually morning?” you asked. You barely recognised your voice, raspy from use.

Simon snorted. “No, more like 10pm.”

Gaz kissed your shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

You thought it over, then took the fact that you were thinking at all and not begging for a knot to be a good sign. “Pretty good.” You gave a lazy smile. “Though my neck is a bit sore, and I definitely need a shower.” 

Everyone chuckled, Price smiling as he reached down to stroke your hair. “Good. You should do that, then eat something before your heat spikes again,” said

You nodded. Soap put a hand on your chest, just above your heart. “Let me help?” He smirked. “Your legs are probably jelly right now.”

You slapped his arm weakly. “Dickhead. And yes.” He grinned, helping you shift so he could get up, then picking you up bridal style. You yelped, legs barely able to cling to his waist, his arms the only thing keeping you from falling. "Arsehole."

“You’re less creative with the insults when you’re fucked out,” he said. You gave Gaz the middle finger when you saw him trying to hide a laugh behind his hand, Ghost and Price laughing as you did so. Johnny carried you over to the bathroom and set you on the counter. You jolted as the cold faux marble hit your bare skin. He smiled. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding very sorry at all, and walked over to the bath, running the water and connecting the plug.

“I was just going to shower,” you said, no hint of complaint in your voice.

“I know, but I thought this would be better,” he said as he added some soaps you’d bought at Tesco’s earlier. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything more; the running water provided a comfortable background noise as you watched him fuss over the temperature. When the water was at a good level, he turned off the tap and stood up, walking back to you. He lifted you up again, setting you gently in the bath. You sighed in contentment, letting your head rest against the back of the tub as the heat seeped into you, muscles relaxing further. Johnny crouched down beside you, grabbing a loofah hung on the tiles and dipping it in the water. “You’re not going to join me?” you asked.

He smiled. “Another time. Focus on you.” He kissed the tip of your nose. You hummed, closing your eyes and letting him gently scrub at your skin, washing everything off.

“Are you going to do this again when my heat starts back up in a few hours?”

Johnny chuckled, pausing his ministrations. “Nah. Don’t want to run up your water bill.”

You groaned. “Fuck no, I don’t even want to think about it. Do you know how much prices have gone up the last few years?”

“Thought you said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

You opened your eyes and leaned forwards, kissing him on the lips. You almost chuckled; you could still taste cum in his mouth. You didn’t even know whose it was. You pulled back with a smile, mirroring his own. He started washing you again. “I want to stay in the army,” you said. “With you and the pack. I know we’d still be together, but still. I want to. Maybe work more with omegas instead of mainly combat, but I haven't figured that bit out yet.” His hand stilled once more as he stared at you intensely. You wanted to fidget, but you had nowhere to hide. Didn’t want to, not from them. “I probably should’ve brought this up when we were all together, actually,” you added, “But I—"

He cupped your cheek, pulling you in for another longer, sweeter kiss. He rested his forehead against yours as he pulled away. “Good,” he said against your lips. Then he pulled back, turning away to face the bathroom door. “Guys!” he shouted, and then you were glad he’d moved away. Fuck, could he be loud.

“What?” came Price’s voice from another room, sounding a little annoyed even through the wall. 

“Skunk said he’s staying in combat,” Soap replied.

There was a pause, then, “Alright," and nothing else.

You broke into a laugh, leaning back against the shower, shaking your head fondly. “Alright,” you repeated, and sank deeper into the water.

AN: All I can really say is thank you all for reading and sticking around. This is my first fanfiction, first time I've written anything this long - shit, the first time I've done any creative writing since school - and you all made this so FUN. It's been so nice getting comments every week and seeing what people thought of this, and its encouraged me to stick with this instead of dropping it like most other things that catch my interest for a couple of weeks.

He and Gaz were debating whether honey or regular cheerios were better while Price watched them, almost forlornly, as if they were his pups who’d never left the nest. “What do you think, John? Honey or plain.”

“Plain,” answered Price, surprisingly. You were still getting used to the mundanity of everything; you’d half expected him to tell them to focus before remembering you weren’t on base.

“For fuck's sake, of course you’re mates; both like boring fucking cereals,” Soap cursed under his breath. He turned to you, ignoring Gaz’s smirk. “And you?”

“Honey, of course,” you said. You couldn’t say otherwise, not with the hope burning in his eyes.

“Thank you, someone has sense,” he said. “Ghost?”

“I don’t give a shit,” said Ghost, still looking at his phone.

You snorted. “That’s a tiebreaker. Got to fight for it now.”

Soap smiled, looking to Gaz as if he were actually considering the idea. Gaz’s face fell, and he took a step back. “Skunk was joking.” He glanced at you. “Right?”

You shrugged slowly, holding back your laugh. Soap crouched, making a playful growl in his throat that had the mother-and-child duo passing you in the aisle walking faster. “Soap,” said Price, voice low and authoritative. Soap straightened up immediately, approaching Price, who put a hand on his nape, not quite scruffing him. Soap relaxed into his touch. “Behave.”

“You’re probably giving him a stiffy, talking to him like that,” said Ghost as casually as discussing rain.

“Ghost,” said Price, though there was a smile on his face.

“Sir,” said Ghost, putting his phone in his pocket.

Price shook his head. “Not at the shops.”

“Yes, sir.”

Price looked at Soap. Soap grinned, but his growing blush confirmed that Ghost wasn’t joking. Gaz chuckled, patting him on the back. “You can have your honey cheerios. Consolation for being exposed like that.” He turned to you. “You, though? I’m betrayed.”

“Nah,” said Soap, sidling up to you. “He’s a fuckin’ hero.” He threw an arm around you. “Took down an entire base yourself.”

You grimaced, the dread that had followed you these last few months – and especially in recovery – mounting. You knew that, at the very least, Price had to have read through the report you sent over for him to sign off on before it reached Kate. But he hadn’t said anything. No one had, besides Kate, who had found you naked in a cell. You knew how gentle the pack had been, but could they act like that if they were aware of what you’d done?

"No, I’m not,” you whispered.

Soap's smile fell, and he turned to face you. Gaz moved away from putting the Cheerios in the shopping cart to walk back over to Price and Ghost, pulling up behind. “What?” Soap asked.

You swallowed, looking down, cursing yourself for bringing it up in Tesco, of all places. “I’m not…I’m not a hero.” You reached under your scarf to touch your nape, checking the scent patch you put on that morning was in place before you lost control in public.

Price moved away from the shopping cart and to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you don’t like the word, but you did take down that base. Only you. The rest of us were just the cleanup crew.”

You sucked in a sharp breath.There wasn’t much space unless you wanted to block the aisle. “But what I did to make that happen. I-I’m sorry.” Your voice cracked at the end.

Price moved from your side, and Ghost took his place. He opened his arms and you melted into them. They wrapped around you – so warm for a man who acted as cold as he did to most people – and with his size, it felt like it blocked out the world. The rest of your pack stepped closer, huddling around you. But just as your breaths started to steady, he leaned down and said softly, “We know, Skunk.” You froze, then tried to pull away, but Ghost held fast and continued. “We know, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Your pulse hammering was in your ears, tears welling in your eyes. Four scents started to envelop you at once, calm and present and not in the slightest bit disgusted, as you’d always imagined when you thought of telling them. When you pulled away again, Ghost let you, taking a step back next to Price after throwing a dirty glare at someone in the aisle who had been looking too hard at all of you. “How?”

Soap’s eyes grew watery as he spoke. “When we got to that underground Farm and handed them omegas off to another team to look for you, we found some alphas still in there, destroying evidence.” He took a shaky breath, and you reached out to take his hand. He stroked your knuckles. “They’d…they talked about you.”

You stared at the ground, shame burning in your chest. You were glad you put on your scent patches because you didn’t want to know what you’d smell like otherwise. “But then…why are you still here?”

Gaz furrowed his brows. “The omegas.” When you turned to him, he added, “You just wanted to save them, didn’t you? Why would we go because of that?”

“But I—"

“We don’t care. We love you,” said Price. He swallowed. “I love you.” He stepped forward, placing a hand on each cheek, wiping your tears away. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk about it.”

You sniffled, leaning into his cheek. Your eyes were closed, body almost slumped in relief against him. “I thought it was the report I’d have to worry about.”

“You don’t have to worry about any of them anymore,” said Ghost. You couldn’t see him, face cradled in Price’s hands, but by the way Price nodded to him and then looked into your eyes, the icy satisfaction that leaked into all of their scents, you understood what he meant. 

You paused, letting that information sit with you for a moment, before turning and kissing Price’s hand. “Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I love you too.”

Price leaned in to kiss your forehead, then let you go. You turned to Ghost first, giving him another hug, then to Gaz and Soap. You opened your arms, and they each took a side, wrapping themselves around you. Gaz pecked you on the lips while Soap nuzzled into your neck, lips just below your nape. “You’ve got us as long as you want us, yeah?”

You nodded, giving a shaky smile before stepping away. “All right, let’s go before someone pulls out a fuckin’ camera.”

You’d been told to let them handle packing the shopping at the checkout. Ghost put everything on the conveyor belt; Price was paying, so he stood next to you while Soap packed everything up. Your eyes, however, were locked on Gaz and the omega cashier who couldn’t stop staring at him as he made small talk while helping Soap pack.

“Are you guys on a trip?” she asked, though she didn’t look at any of you besides him. Her scent, apples and paper, wasn’t unprofessionally forward, but you could smell it from a few metres away: interest and curiosity that was too strong to be benign. His bite mark from Price was clear on his nape; you didn’t know if she assumed it was a pack bite with nothing more to it or just didn’t care. It made your stomach clench.

Gaz nodded, smiling. She seemed to melt as their eyes met briefly. “Yeah,” he said. “First break this year.”

Her eyes widened sympathetically as she scanned one of the last items. “Oh, that’s too long.” You looked up to Price next to you. His arms were crossed, but he just watched. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm. Your blood was boiling. Your fists clenched at your sides, and you struggled not to let your scent spike into something unpleasant, scent blockers be damned.

"It's part of the job, though I wish I got more free time,” he said.

A pause. She looked him up and down, scent sharpening into appreciation before she glanced away. Your jaw ticked. “So, do you come by here every holiday?

You moved from where you were waiting and tried not to stomp to Gaz’s side, passing Gaz, who, once smiling, saw the look on your face and went slack. The cashier looked and turned to you wide-eyed. Gaz watched your face, tight with a restrained possessiveness so strong you were equal parts frustrated and confused. “Was that it?” you asked. She opened her mouth. Closed it. You nodded to the empty conveyor belt, Ghost walking past you to stand by Price. 

“Uh, yes,” she squeaked.

“How much? ” you asked. 

Gaz looked between the two of you. She avoided eye contact with you both. You walked over to Price, took the card from his outstretched hand, and tapped it on the reader. Ghost and Soap picked up the shopping bags, Soap’s snickering starting up again, and you turned and walked away, catching up with Price again. He leaned closer. “What was that?” he asked. His steps faltered for a moment, but when you raised a brow in question, he shook his head, smiling faintly. You huffed but didn’t ask further, the omega and her clear interest in Gaz still lingering in your mind.

It burnt at you inside. You knew that he wasn’t entertaining it, just being nice. She probably didn’t even expect it to go anywhere since she was working. But every time you remembered her scent, the shy smiles, and the much less shy look-overs she gave him, you wanted to go back there and tell her in no uncertain terms that she was yours. Price unlocked the car doors once you reached the car park, Ghost opening up the boot for everyone to put the bags in. Gaz got there last, trailing behind with the last bags, brows furrowed and lips pouted. You wanted to grab him and scent him until no one would think about looking at him twice again. 

Ghost was about to open the back door when Price stopped him. “Ghost. Mind sitting in front?” Ghost complied without a word, Soap slipping into the back from where he’d left the door open. Gaz looked to Price from where he was closing the car boot, confused. “Sit in the back.” Price looked at you, then back to Gaz. Gaz tilted his head, sighed, and did as he was told.

You slid in beside Gaz, closing the door behind you. As soon as Gaz had his seatbelt on, you leaned against him, rubbing your head against his shoulder and nape. You lifted your head to give him a kiss on the cheek. He turned his head so you could give another on his lips. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled between kisses. “That was a bit much.” He kissed you back, the furrow still between his brows every time you pulled back.

“Gaz,” you heard Price call from the front seat. The rumble of the engine ran through you as he started the car. “How does he smell?”

Gaz pulled away completely as Price turned out of the carpark and onto the street. You had to resist chasing his lips. Soap leaned past Gaz, pouting, so you kissed him instead, a smile growing on your face along with the tightening in your core. It was only when Gaz asked, “Can I take off your patch?” that you pulled back and sat in your seat properly. You reached up and did it yourself, peeling it off, wincing slightly at the difficulty when it had only been stuck on the day before. Within seconds, your scent, thicker and sweeter than usual, filled the car. “Oh, fuck,” said Gaz.”

“Shit, I dinnae know you were going into heat.”

You could see Price’s smile from where you sat, though he wisely didn’t turn around. It made your chest feel light. Ghost nodded from the passenger seat. “Need to get ready, then.”

The rules against you doing any kind of lifting still stood, especially now they knew you were in preheat, so you watched as Price, looking very much like a stay-at-home dad with how particular he was about the order he’d keep the food in ’his’ fridge, instructed Ghost on where to store everything while Gaz got started preparing dinner from the ingredients you’d chosen. Soap was sitting on a chair, you in his lap, pressing kisses to the back of your neck. Each one made you melt further, your mind still clear but feeling spacier by the minute. Your scent clung to everyone, and, despite yourself, you couldn’t help the well of pride that brought you, your inner omega triumphant in marking your mates. As Soap, nose near your scent glands, breathed you in, you shivered in anticipation, thinking of how, soon, you’d be bitten by them. It’d be official. You'd be theirs, and they’d be yours.

“So, how is this going to work?” You asked as Ghost shut the fridge door; Price was still stacking things on the cupboard shelves.

“What?” asked Soap. “Mating? ” You nodded. He chuckled against your skin. “I’m pretty sure you know how that works.”

“Yes, MacTavish." You rolled your eyes. “I know how shagging works. But what about the bite? Or bites?” Ghost moved to sit opposite you and Soap. “How does it work when there’s four of you?”

Price shut the cupboard and turned around, leaning against the counter as Gaz turned on the stove. “It generally goes in order of hierarchy, though it's better to do them as close to each other as possible.”

You raised a brow. “Distance or time?”

“Time,” said Price. “If you leave it too long, apparently, it can mess with heat cycles.”

Gaz nodded from beside him, grabbing the pack of chicken behind Price. "The endocrinologist on base told me when I asked," he called over his shoulder. “It can make you have multiple heats for each alpha if you do them separately, but so long as the bites are close together, you sync to us all.”

You scrunched your nose despite the heat between your legs, the idea of being mated to them clashing with imagining being in constant heats to try and accommodate four alphas. "As close as possible it is then.” You looked back to Gaz, though he was still facing the stove. “How long between bites?”

“Should be fine, so long as it's within the same half a day.”

“Fuck,” you said, imagining the logistics.

Soap snorted, pressing a lingering kiss to your nape, drawing a shaky exhale from you. "Enough time for the knots to go down. So I’m assuming it's you and Ghost first, then?”

Price shook his head, a devious smile on his lips. “When have we followed those rules?” He glanced at you, eyes dark. “That is, if you do want to be knotted by all of us, love?”

You squeezed your thighs together, holding back the whine that almost escaped your throat. “Fuck, yes,” you said, your voice breathless. He chuckled as everyone’s scents grew heavy with anticipation and arousal. ”But…” You took a deep breath before pushing forward. You’d thought about this since Gaz asked you to become their mate, and with the heat progressing you couldn’t stop the idea. “I want to bite you too.”

Soap groaned from beside you, biting his lip, scent spilling from him. Gaz’s brows were raised, but the growing smile on his face eased your nerves and kicked them into need. Ghost grunted, shaking his head. “Should’ve expected something like this from you, right?” he said dryly. 

Price nodded, head tilted and an almost challenging grin on his face that you needed to see in your nest. “I like the sound of it, though. If you’re up for it.”

You nodded just as you started releasing slick in your trousers and stood up abruptly, your heat – much more gentle but still insistent compared to the induced one – kicking into gear. “The nest, I…” You didn’t finish, scrambling for the stairs. You were in your bedroom in seconds. It already smelt of your pack, everyone sleeping together since the first day. You tore the blanket and sheets off the bed, grabbed some used shirts, trousers, and underwear, and brought it all to your nesting room, the next door over. You’d put off making one, thinking that you’d have time, and now panic was washing through you as your body heated up even further, sweat starting to bead at your temples. You used the blanket and sheets to make the bottom, setting it on top of a rug and in the middle of the room. It felt too big, having gone unused the entire time you’d lived there, with your heats practically nonexistent, making it have no purpose. You couldn’t help the whine that left you that time, more distressed than hungry as you arranged the clothes.

You were interrupted by a knock on the door. Gaz stood in the open doorway, giving you a reassuring smile as he watched you freeze, Soap’s boxers clutched in your hand. “You’re doing a good job,” he cooed. You felt the bunched muscles in your back relax. “Want me to get you some more stuff?” You nodded, and he walked back the way he came to the bedroom. 

Soap walked in next, then Ghost, then Price, who was carrying some bottles of water and lube. Ghost leaned against the wall, while Soap climbed over the small side wall of your nest to sit next to you. You buried your face into his chest, taking a deep inhale of his scent as his hand found your back, stroking up and down. The touch made you feel both hotter and colder, shivers wracking your body.

“Where’d you get those from?” you asked.

“Bought some at the shops. You were too busy being territorial to notice,” said Ghost. You growled at him, though it had no bite. He simply huffed and walked over to you, slipping off his mask.

“Seems we’ll have to have dinner later, right, Skunk?”

You nodded into Soap’s chest, enjoying the pressure of his body against yours.

You lifted your head when you heard Gaz’s chuckle, signalling his return. In his arms were more of his and the other’s clothes, a waterproof sheet, and some towels. He set them down, then climbed into the nest of the opposite side of Soap. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” you breathed out. It was getting harder to think, brain fogged by their scents, their warmth, and the promise of what was coming.

“Good,” he repeated, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw. You almost tilted your head back then and there.

Suddenly, there were hands under your armpits, and, like a child, Ghost picked you up. The easy show of strength had you ruining your boxers. “You ready to take off your clothes?”

You nodded rapidly, Ghost’s little huff of a laugh doing nothing to stave off your eagerness. He placed you on your feet and started lifting your shirt as Price shut the door, walking behind you. His hands moved from your back to your waistband to undo the clasp, pulling down your cargos until they bunched at your ankle. You stepped out of them on shaky breaths, the air feeling impossibly cold on your overheated skin. Then, removed of your outer layers, those same hands spun you around so you faced Gaz and Soap, already kissing in your nest, Soap’s hand on Gaz’s waist, Gaz’s hand tugging on his mohawk, drawing a moan from him that shot down your spine and straight to your cock. They continued as you climbed into your nest, Price right behind you. You caught a glimpse of Ghost taking off his mask just before Price pulled you in for a kiss, hot and demanding. You groaned into his mouth as his tongue entered yours, exploring every inch of you. It was rough; the hint of teeth only made you moan harder as you imagined them sinking into your nape soon.

By the time you pulled away, you were panting. Ghost was naked as he climbed into your nest too, pulling in Gaz for a kiss. It was the first time you’d seen them together like that, and for it to be in the nest you made made a new rush of slick pool in your underwear. Soap climbed up your body, pushing you onto your back with a smile on his face as Price began to undress himself. For a brief moment you thought it funny that, out of everyone, it was Soap that was fully clothed last, but that thought faded quickly as he started peppering needy kisses across your inner thighs. You moaned. As you tilted your head back, you saw Price, naked, stepping over to Ghost, who had Gaz between his knees, licking a stripe up his cock. You sucked in a breath as you felt Soap take you into his mouth in one go. You keened, back arching. He didn’t go slow, bobbing immediately and groaning around your dick. 

You didn't know where to look. You kept flitting between his head between your legs and the scene beside you, Price feeding Ghost his dick, thrusting shallowly into his mouth. Soap made the choice for you when his fingers trailed down from your hip to your rim, drenched in slick. He traced it teasingly slow, then dipped his finger to the first knuckle. You tried angling your hips, composure snapping fast as your heat was beginning in earnest, but he held you fast with his free hand, moving from lying on his stomach to on his knees, mouth around your cock as he pushed the finger in slowly. “Soap,” you whined.

“Hmm?” he hummed on your cock, blue eyes locked onto your face. The vibrations shot up your spine, another gasp escaping you.

“Faster, please.” He didn’t reply, instead pulling his finger out and pushing two fingers in, still moving agonisingly slow. Your back arched further, giving you a view of the rest of the pack again, Gaz stroking himself between Ghost’s knees. Ghost stroked his hair almost gently as John fucked into his mouth, head tilted so he could watch you. You made eye contact, and the heat in you skyrocketed. “Alpha, please,” you cried out, to John or Johnny, you weren’t sure. Soap sped up, adding a third finger, the tips grazing against your prostate in a way that made your mind go blank. “I’m, fuck, I’m ready.” Still no response beyond Soap beyond moaning even louder around your cock. You looked up to see his face; he smiled around you, groaning again just to watch your hips stutter.

You couldn’t take it anymore, your mind lost to your heat. With a growl, you pushed him off until he rested on his knees, then pounced, tearing at his shirt. He chuckled, half amused, half panicked. “Skunk, Bonnie, I was just teasing.”

You moaned softly as you felt a kiss on the junction between your shoulder and neck but didn’t stop. You moved to his belt buckle next as Ghost rested his head on your shoulder. “Best leave him to it, Johnny.” He pressed another kiss to your nape, and you tilted your head to give him better access. He growled with satisfaction, the sound sending slick dripping down your thighs. Soap pulled his own boxers down, revealing his cock, already hard and leaking, knot half formed despite not being touched yet. You didn’t give him time to react, pushing him onto his back and straddling his lap. He looked up at you, eyes wide, as you grabbed him just above his knot. He was hot in your hand, thick and heavy and all for you. You lined him up to your hole, then sank down in one slow, uninterrupted roll of your hips until you were seated in his lap. You threw your head back, and Ghost, still behind you, licked up your scent gland again. You trembled, teeth flashing despite loving it, and he only bared his fangs back. You felt so full, so connected to Soap, who was groaning beneath you, fingers digging into your hips but not moving. You didn’t wait long, your heat urging you forward to start bouncing on his cock, the tempo slow for only a few beats before you started slamming down in earnest. Whines left your throat continuously as you found a rhythm, hips moving in circles, grinding down against Soap’s knot every time he bottomed out. 

“Fuck, Bonnie," he said through gritted teeth. “Feels so fucking good. You like this, hmm?” You nodded, bouncing faster and harder. Sweat dripped down your chest, Ghost’s breath hot against your nape, all five of your scents mingling into a heady mix you felt drunk off of. Every time you speared yourself onto his cock your legs felt weaker, your bounces getting sloppier by the second, but you didn’t stop, instinct driving you on even as your body felt like jelly. His knot slapped against your rim more insistently, not yet popping in but stretching you deliciously, sending jolts of electricity down your spine. 

Your back arched as you felt fingers at your nipples, slicked and teasing, pulling and twisting. With your body in overdrive and sensitive, you keened into the touch. Ghost pressed another kiss to your scent gland, and you started riding Soap more desperately, Soap thrusting up into you as well. “You look so fucking good like this. Using him up so well,” he muttered into your ear. Each word of praise spurred you on further. “Look at him.” And you did. Soap was red from his chest up to his hairline, panting harshly, rutting up into you like his life depended on it, eyes hazy but wide as he glanced between you and Ghost. “Made a mess of my mate, our mate.” You and Soap moaned together at the reminder, Soap pumping up more insistently. His knot was almost in fully, and Ghost rested a hand on your upper back, pushing you forwards gently until you hovered over Soap, his breath fanning your scent gland. 

Soap’s breath hitched in your ear. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Skunk. You ready?” His lips brushed against your scent gland as he spoke, teeth grazing lightly. You almost nodded but figured you needed to keep your head still, so you moaned in reply, the stretch of his knot making you near delirious. Then you jolted, a hand brushing against your still hard cock. Before you could say anything or figure out who it was, you came, body twitching, moans pitching higher than they’d been so far. Your hole clenched and spasmed around Soap's cock, him growling soon after with his orgasm, and then his teeth were in your shoulder, just beside your scent gland, and your mind went blank, stars in your eyes as the sensation sent you somewhere else, omega wailing with pride and satisfaction at finally being mated. You let the instinct take you, smaller omega fangs feeling heavy in your mouth, and bite Soap’s shoulder, completing the cycle. Euphoria. Mind separate from your body, you distantly noted the wetness between your stomach and Soap’s from your cum, his knot plugging you as he filled you up, a hand lightly stroking your sweaty back.

You let bliss overcome you, your body slumping against Soap’s beneath you.

Read chapter 30 here

It had been too long since you’d been there; the last time you’d visited was when you took PTO just before being assigned to TF141 8 months ago. It rocked you how the time flew by. A two-bedroom house an hour away from London’s zone 1; it was too big for you, and you loved it. You’d felt like a king when you saw it for the first time and knew it was yours. From a cot and a cage that didn’t even belong to you on the farm to having an entire house. You went there as often as you could, even if – with you only spending a few weeks a year and being a sparse decorator – it didn’t feel like much of a home, more than a place to go during time off-duty and collect letters.

“I still don’t understand how it's Skunk, out of all of us, that actually has a house," said Soap. “He’s even younger than Gaz.”

You turned your head towards the back to see Gaz nodding along with an indulgent smile. “Hmm, that’s true. How’d you afford the place?”

“Not on my military salary, that’s for fucking sure.” Everyone in the car laughed, even Ghost snorting at the truth of it. “I got a payout in some victim’s compensation programme after the Farm. Bought the house, since that felt like the right thing to do. Having somewhere to live that had nothing to do with the military. Or them.” Price put a hand on your knee, the other still on the wheel, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, thanks for letting us use it,” added Gaz.

You nodded in acknowledgement, letting your focus turn back to the view outside the window. “It’s going to be dusty as fuck once we get in. Haven't had anyone go in to keep it tidy, y'know?"

Soap tipped his head back with a groan, to which you noticed Ghost nip at his exposed throat. “Behave,” he murmured. 

You chuckled under your breath at his petulant whine. You never forgot that they were alphas. Everything about them, from their bodies to their scents, screamed it. But, seeing them together, it always uncoiled something within you.

It only took half an hour from there to reach your house. It was a detached home with a back garden and a car park. When you’d looked at it, it had reminded you of the normal family homes you saw while watching TV after Kate took you from the Farm. Probably why you wanted it so much. You reached into the pockets of your cargos to find your keys, a plain set with no adornments, no different from how they were when the realtor had given them to you, and headed for the door after having been all but shoved away from the car boot. You still weren’t allowed to lift anything heavy, though at that point it was more orders from Price and the pack than from your doctors.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, not stepping inside yet. The hall greeted you first, a small carpeted section at the door to leave shoes that gave way to the hardwood flooring of the rest of the house, save the bedrooms. The hall led straight into the living room, the sofa in your eyeline from where you stood. Thanks to a sliding door at the back of it that led to the back garden, it was light inside despite no lights being on.

You snapped out of your daze as Soap gently nudged your shoulder. He was standing next to you, a duffel in each hand. “After you, lovie.”

You smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “It’s alright, you go ahead.”

He nodded and walked in, not bothering to take your shoes off when the first thing you’d have to do was clean. Gaz, Price, and Ghost brought up the rear. With all four of them carrying something, they only needed the one trip to get all the bags, so you shut the door behind them as they all stopped near the sofa. You couldn’t help but watch them in the only place you had a separation between the army, your general life, and who you were beyond that, and you’d brought your team there. It almost made you laugh to think that a time had come where you'd not only do it, but want to. It was as strange as it was wonderful.

“So,” you clapped your hands, “want a quick tour?” The team nodded, Soap cheering. You smiled, walking past them and pointing down the hall. They followed behind you. “This is the first bathroom. Only really a toilet and a sink in there, but there’s a bath upstairs too.” You went further down the hall and opened the door at the end. The floors there were tiled in chequered black and white, but besides a stove and a small table, it was also empty of all your cookware. “The kitchen. We’ll need to go to the shops and buy something to make dinner with, unless you guys are feeling takeout?”

Gaz shook his head with a smile. “I’ll cook today.” You nodded and continued.

You led them straight upstairs, turning right and opening the door. “This is my bedroom.” It was, besides the other bedroom, the only place with carpets. In there was a double bed pushed up against the back wall and a small dresser. Every other wall, save for the space the door swung into, had a bookshelf, each filled with every kind of tome you might think of: general history, secondary genders and omega rights, and, largest of all, fiction.

“Looks more like a library than a bedroom, love,” said Price with a wry smile. Soap nodded enthusiastically next to him while Gaz just leaned against the doorframe, looking over everything.

Ghost let out a low whistle as his eyes scanned the room. He had on a simple black mask instead of his ghost balaclava, and with it off he seemed more distinctly impressed. “How long did it take you to collect these?”

“Ever since I was freed, pretty much. I was lucky that I was taught to read in the Farm since they used me for work that needed it sometimes, but didn’t have any books besides whatever people forgot. It probably doesn’t surprise you to know that a lot of the people who work in those kinds of places don’t read, so that didn’t happen often. But I didn’t know fuck about shit when it came to the real world, didn’t understand life outside the Farm, what politics were, all of that. You pointed to the books on general history at the far end. “I started with the books they had me reading to catch up on what life is like, then branched out into whatever interested me.” You shrugged, looking at Ghost from behind your shoulder with a weak smile. “Didn’t have much to do besides study and train, so…”

He nodded, then, after a moment, leaned forward, not in a kiss since he hadn't pulled his mask down, but a soft headbutt. You huffed, pushing your forehead into his until he chuckled faintly and pulled back. “Good job.”

The praise was so simple, yet it sent warmth flooding through you. “You can read whatever you want.” You paused. “Except the erotica. Please don’t read that.”

“I fuckin’ will,” said Soap. You laughed, shaking your head, and stepped out of the room, leaving the door open as you opened the door next to it. 

“Bathroom.” You let them look inside if they wanted, immediately moving to the next door. “And the second bedroom.” That one, unlike the other you’d used, was largely bare. The walls were the same beige colour they’d been when you moved in; the carpet was the same grey as in your master bedroom. The biggest difference was the lack of books and the large bed pushed against the far wall.

“Wait,” said Soap. “Why is the bigger bed in here if that’s the master bedroom?”

“Because I couldn’t fit it in there with all the books.”

“Ah.”

They all stopped in there, smiling. Price nodded towards the bed. "We won't have an issue with fitting on that, will we, lads?" Soap burst into a chuckle, nudging Gaz with his elbow. At least, until Price continued. “But first we’ve got to get this place in order.”

Soap groaned again.

You nodded, tossing a smile his way before leaving the bedroom and opening the cupboard next to the door. “If we finish by evening, maybe I can take you to the local pub?”

Soap perked up again, speeding to join you and take out some cleaning supplies.

It hadn’t taken long to finish up cleaning the place, and, a few hours later, you’d all showered, changed, and made your way back out to the nearest pub. You decided to get takeout after all instead of making the journey to the shops to buy groceries and again to go out. The sun was already setting, the dirty cobbled streets of the town looking like clay as they glinted red as the light hit them, the chatter from inside leaking out of the pub and spilling outside as your group approached. You hadn’t gone out with them since that one time on base half a year ago, when you were afraid to admit the jealousy you felt at watching them love each other next to you. It excited you to have a second chance somewhere new. The banter had already started up between everyone, Soap and Gaz puffing up their chests and claiming who’d drink the most that night between them while Ghost and Price shared knowing looks.

You pushed open the door, going in first, the faint voices from beyond the door coming into clarity. The crowd in the pub, in the area in general, ran older than you were, probably close to Price’s age, but you didn’t mind. You tended to drink alone anyway, so hadn’t talked much with anyone who was a regular besides two, one of whom was already calling your name before the door had swung shut again.

“Skunk!” came a bright voice from behind the bar. A tall beta man with wavy brown hair waved at you, grinning. Price raised a brow, the others looking at you.

“I know him,” you said.

Soap scoffed lightly. “I can see that.”

You smiled as you made your way over, Vince opening up the counter to talk to you on the customer side. He stopped a meter away. “Hey, it's good to see you.”

“You too,” he said breathily. He looked to your scarf, still scented by the pack, with a furrowed brow which was gone as quick as it came, then back to your eyes. “You look good as always.”

You nodded, ignoring the compliment. “How’s your mum?”

“She’s good, just in the back at the moment! She’ll want to see you. Should I bring her over?”

“Maybe later; I don’t want to disturb her. How’s it been? Has he come back at all?”

Vince shook his head, smile fading, eyes hardening. “No. Good fucking riddance.” Vince’s name was actually Vincent Jr. His father, and his mum, Esther’s, ex-husband, was an abuser who’d terrorised her most of their marriage. The police in the area were both threadbare and shitty, and never did anything. You’d been able to do nothing for about two days; then, going to the backroom to check on Esther, you saw Vince Sr. raise his hands to her. So you raised your hands to him. Repeatedly. Until he agreed to leave the area or risk worse.

Vince Jr.’s smile returned, looking you over. “I know you refused our help when we’ve offered it, but maybe I could do something small? Dinner, maybe?” He looked at you hopefully.

But then his smile disappeared, his eyes looking just behind you. You turned your head and ended up having to crane it. Ghost stood right behind you, towering over both you and Vince. You’d forgotten how quiet he could be. You glanced to the side where Soap, Gaz, and Price were still waiting for you, Soap looking not much less like a kicked puppy as he jutted his lip out in a pout, Gaz snickering beside him.

“Oh, hey,” you muttered to Ghost before turning back to Vince. “Vince, this is Ghost, my…Ghost.” Shit. You held back the urge to cringe. That was fucking awkward. You’d never actually had a conversation about it. You knew that you’d be bitten by the end of this trip; you’d said you loved each other. But never actually gave it a label. 

"Mate," Ghost supplied for you, moving to stand beside you.

You looked back to him for a moment before you nodded, a smile you couldn’t hold back growing on your lips as heat rushed to your face. “Yeah. That. And the guys over there.” You all turned to the rest of your pack, who had found a free table by then, sitting in a corner with a view of both the counter and the door. Soap gave a sharp smile, Gaz waving, and Price nodding, arms crossed.

“Oh,” said Vince. His previously confident movements grew a little stilted, hands moving up to fidget together.

“Ghost, this is Vince. He and his mum are the people I’m closest to here, for sure. They always look out for me.”

Vince shook his head vehemently. “No, it's you who always helps us. So drinks are on me, yeah? I’m happy for you.”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thanks, Vince. I’ll talk to your mum later, yeah?”

He nodded, smiling, then walked back to his side of the bar. You and Ghost went over to the table, joining the pack, taking the free seats on either side of Price. “So, who was that?” asked Soap. His tone was light, but you could tell he looked more than a little curious.

“Vince,” said Ghost for you. “Skunk helped him, apparently.”

Gaz nodded, nudging Soap. “Told you.”

“We could see you pouting from across the fucking bar, Johnny,” said Ghost.

Soap brushed off the teasing, though his posture did relax a bit more. “So no ex-boyfriends we should know about?”

“Soap,” you said, both chiding and affectionate like scolding a child as you raised an eyebrow, “tell me, how many people have you fucked? Besides the people on this table, of course.” Soap’s eyes widened, mouth gaping, as Gaz burst into laughter beside him. “No shame for it, but something tells me it isn't a few. Y'know, because we’re all adults with needs. But no, I don't have any exes you should be worrying about.”

“I’m not worried –"

“Uh-huh,” you cut in. Gaz leaned his head on the table, almost wheezing with laughter. Soap just crossed his arms, smiling despite himself, as Ghost watched on, eyes crinkling like they always did when he was smiling behind his mask. You couldn’t believe you hadn't been able to read the signs before. Why had you been so worried at the start whether they’d like you? Was it just your relationship at the time? Watching them then, it felt so obvious.

Price patted your shoulder, hiding a smile behind his hand. You leaned into his side, and he ruffled your hair, dragging his wrist across your temple to scent you, before standing up. “First round’s on me, lads.”

You, Ghost, and Price walked behind while Soap and Gaz stumbled towards the car.

“So,” you asked dryly, “who won?”

“Whoever doesn’t throw up in my fucking car,” said Price.

Ghost turned to join the bet. “You think they’re making it to the car?” 

You looked back as Gaz giggled, using a crumpling Soap to hold up his weight. Soap, at the extra weight, seemed to lose his mirth, lips pursing for a second. You looked back to Ghost. “You’re right.” You turned to the men in front of you and called out. “If either of you throw up in my bed, I swear I’ll cut you.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gaz.

Ghost walked ahead to catch up with them before they did something stupid. Price angled closer. “Are you ready for your session tomorrow?”

You grimaced, but nodded. “Still don’t get why I have to,” you said. Price gave you a long look but didn’t call out the lie.

“It’s your last one before you’re cleared for physical testing, right?”

You nodded. “Right.” You raised your hand, turning it over, watching the four fingers catch a streetlight. You wiggled your fingers, then splayed them. 

Price took the hand in his, rubbing your wrists together. The rest of the pack had already reached the car. Price took his car keys into his other hand and unlocked the doors. “You’ll be fine.”

You huffed. “Not sure about that.”

“I am. You’ll pass whatever they’re looking for.”

“And if I don’t?”

He stopped you from walking, quickly pulling you in by the waist and giving you a kiss as sure as his words. “Then I’ll sort it out.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

Part of you wanted to scream. It felt like you’d been asked that for the hundredth time in the past hour. The army psychiatrist, an omega woman, had been doing your eval to see whether you were mentally well enough to go back to duty. You’d done it before, too many times in your opinion. You knew how it worked, how to give the right answers; just enough for them to not feel like you’re repressing, not enough for them to think you’re crazy. Maybe it was the drinks the night before or something else; either way, you were struggling to put on the face you needed to get through it like you normally did.

“It hurt,” you said, trying to relax your jaw so you weren’t speaking through gritted teeth.

She nodded slowly, brows furrowed sympathetically. “It must have been difficult, seeing what happened to the omegas in there.”

You wanted to run away. “Yes.”

“Especially considering you shared their experiences early in life,” she continued.

“Yes,” you said, voice hitching. You were struggling to keep your scent from spiking. No blockers were allowed in the room, apparently, so you had to take them off at the door. She looked at you expectantly. You took a shaky breath and continued. “The base reminded me of back then, but it was the other omegas that were hard.” Celine, Luca, Hannah, Louis. You squared your shoulders, not letting yourself linger on it too long. Not there. “But I’m proud of myself; I’m proud of them. They got out.” Some of the tension you’d been holding relaxed; it was the first thing you said without hesitation.

She nodded, giving you a smile. “Good.” She wrote something down on the sheet of paper in front of her. You tried not to look like you were looking. She looked up again. “And your pack?”

“Huh?” Your blood ran cold.

“They should be proud of you.”

You forced a weak smile and nodded. You still hadn’t told them everything. About Alpha Brand. Nausea rose in the pit of your stomach. You swallowed it down, keeping your face and scent neutral.

When she was done, she stood up, setting the paper aside. She offered you a hand. You stood up and took it. “Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll be sending in my report ASAP to your superiors, who’ll let you know about the next steps from there.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

She led you to the door and opened it to let you out into the waiting area. Ghost was the only one there besides the receptionist, sitting ramrod straight in a chair too small for him. He stood up as soon as you were out of the door, waiting for you to reach him before he nodded to you and kept walking out of the building. He didn’t say anything. You appreciated it. Laswell had arranged for the lady to meet you in the area you were staying, so the office wasn’t too far away, about a twenty-minute walk from your house. The people of the town stared at you as you passed. While you hadn’t been around often, considering your career, you'd also never been with anyone. You’d put off many people when you got sick of the older folk asking when you were going to find a mate, but there you were – with a hulk of a man walking next to you. 

When he stopped to pull out a cigarette, you pulled out your vape and started talking through puffs. “I don’t like it,” you said suddenly.

Once Ghost had lit his cigarette, he said, “What?”

“The way they’re looking.” You didn't point, as much as you wanted to. 

Ghost nodded, having already noticed. “Why?”

“They’re acting like I’m going to settle down and be a good omega or some shit like that because I’m with someone.”

You and Ghost kept walking. He shrugged. “You are a good omega.”

Your chest felt light, and your inner omega was preening at the compliment. You scoffed anyway. “Your good omega has a confirmed kill sheet.”

He coughed out a laugh through the smoke. “That’s why you're a good omega.”

“That’s fucking right.”

You smiled for the first time since breakfast when it hit you that you’d have to see the psychiatrist, the weight of the conversation you knew you’d have to have easing off your shoulders.

Price was sat on the sofa with the TV on when you kicked off your shoes as you got home. He stood up and met you halfway, pulling you into him and scenting you thoroughly as soon as you were within arms reach. “Oi, what the fu—John!" you protested weakly, though you didn’t pull away.

He loosened his grip on you only so he could peck you on the lips. Then, he dragged his lips lower, pressing a kiss to your jaw. Then, slowly, he moved them down, pulling down your scarf and licking lightly at your scent gland. You held in the whine that almost burst from you, body shivering. “Good job,” he whispered sultrily, then promptly let you go. You stared at him, eyes wide, then turned around to see Ghost leaning against the wall, eyes dancing with mirth. 

You huffed. “What’s up with you two today?” you looked around. “And where are the other two?” Price opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a shout coming from the back garden. You smiled, shaking your head, and moved to the sliding doors.

Gaz and Soap were on the grass, freshly trimmed by Price the day before, wrestling, playful growls tossed between them. Gaz paused when he saw you, smiling, but it quickly turned into a grunt as Soap jumped on top of him, crushing him under his weight. Soap chuckled, staying on top of Gaz for a few seconds more before standing up. “Can’t get distracted mid-match."

Gaz chuckled lightly as he pulled himself up, too. They both walked over to you, Gaz pulling you in for a quick hug before Soap swung an arm around your neck. You shrugged it off, scrunching your nose. “Soap, what the fuck do you put in your body to smell like that when you sweat?”

He grinned slowly. “Oh, you don’t like it? Pure, alpha musk.”

“Stink, you mean,” you said. He raised his arm again, reaching for you. You took a step away. “MacTavish.” He moved closer until you were walking backwards. You broke into a run. “MacTavish.” You yelped as he dove for you, jumping over his low grab. Gaz laughed from the sidelines. “Help, you arsehole!" He only laughed harder as Soap kept chasing you, until he eventually joined and it devolved further into chaos.

Somewhere on the grass, something in you clicked. You saw yourself in your mind; smaller than you knew you were, you laughed and yipped like you’d never done before. A memory of you as a pup that you knew never happened — and would never have happened, even if you’d long lost the scent of milk and honey, were it not for the part-time idiots, part-time killing machines that chased you in the back garden.

You laid in bed, sandwiched between Gaz and Ghost in the middle. You’d counted the number of flowers on the shitty wallpaper through what little light came through the curtains at night, counted the breaths of your pack, listened to the mumbled half-asleep conversation they were having about what they’d buy from Tesco's in the morning, but it kept rolling through your head. “Sorry,” you whispered.

The conversation stopped. “For what?” asked Price from the edge of the bed.

“For…for Brand.” You didn’t elaborate. You knew they’d read your report. Gaz’s arm around your middle tightened. 

Soap lifted his head and laid across Ghost to rest it on your chest. “Don’t say stupid shit like that. You didn’t do anything.”

You felt Gaz nod beside you. Ghost grunted, pressing an aggressive kiss to your temple. Price lifted his arm until it was on your hair, stroking in that way he always did when you thought too much. “You’re a good omega.”

Your eyes stung. You hummed but didn’t say anything. Sniffed. Felt your breath stutter. They didn’t add anything, just kept holding you. Eventually, the sniffles stopped. The conversation about Tesco’s continued, softer than before. Your mind didn’t struggle to latch onto it anymore.

You felt a hand brush a tear from your cheek as you drifted off to sleep.

Read chapter 29 here

Gaz would sit close enough that he could stroke your arm or your hair and update you on what was going on around base, occasionally telling you how Tom was doing. Apparently they’d spoken while you were gone. You hadn’t invited him to your hospital room; you didn’t want him to see you like that. Soap would stroll in and say increasingly ridiculous things until he got a laugh out of you, talk about how much he missed seeing you at PT. Then he’d get close and squeeze you as hard as he could without further hurting your ribs, which were healing from their breaks nicely. Price would complain, mostly, about anything from paperwork to some young alpha recruit thinking he was hot shit on base, and you loved to hear it. Then he’d sit on the bed with you and let you cuddle up, murmuring compliments that embarrassed you but made you feel too good to shut down. At first, you thought that Ghost was seeing you the least of everyone, but you soon found out that he was often standing by the doorway, watching who passed by your room when you’d tried to shuffle out and get a refill for your jug of water.

But you couldn’t deny that it was also stifling. You’d forgotten what it was like to be taken care of; in fact, you couldn’t remember a time where you were, not like now, at least. Not since Kate had saved you from the Farm and helped you build a life. You didn’t know what to do. It made you feel warm and safe, but that safety was so foreign to you it was almost uncomfortable. Still, you couldn’t deny them, or yourself, the closeness.

None of them had spoken about what happened on the base, nor your injuries. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or glad; either way, you knew you’d have to eventually. The higher-ups needed a report, and while from what you understood, Kate and Price had both filled in what gaps they could and held off on asking you for the rest, that wouldn’t last forever.

You almost wished you had thought about what would happen if you lost fingers or a limb before you woke up in that hospital bed, because you weren't prepared. Not for things to slip out of your hand once in a while because you weren’t used to your own grip, not for the look of pity that the nurse had sent you when she saw it happen, something that led to a warning growl from Ghost, who was with you at the time. Definitely not for your mind to forget about it, only for it to shock you all over again when you lifted your hand and saw only three fingers. It wasn’t a career ender; you’d known men with similar injuries, though you wouldn’t admit to anybody how unsure you were if you’d be one of them. You wished your mind would forget other parts of that base instead. 

Knowing the omegas were safe made it feel worth it. Price told you that they’d been taken to a refuge for trafficking victims as a pack of sorts, at least until they could help them develop their own lives, like what they’d done for you minus the military training. You only wished you could watch every member of that trafficking ring die yourself, if not by your own hand, but you’d have to settle for them rotting in prison. You hoped their inmates didn’t take to omega and child trafficking too well.

You’d gotten more texts from Kate and her wife in the last few weeks than you likely had in the previous year. You’d never felt neglected by either of them, but it was sobering to know they were there for you, even if not physically. Apparently you’d missed Kate showing up while you’d been asleep in the beginning, and she hadn’t been able to come back ever since. She’d spoken to you about pulling some strings to make sure you got the best prosthetics she could manage for you, if that was the path you wanted to take – something about myoelectrics you only half understood, though you understood enough to know that it could bring you close to full functionality. That was all that mattered to you. The way Price’s voice cracked over the phone when he heard the news was something you would never forget.

Before the doctors agreed to discharge you, you were given an appointment with a physiotherapist, a few doors down from your hospital room. The receptionist had told you to just walk inside if the door wasn’t shut. As you opened the door, you saw a beta man in scrubs. He smiled kindly and stood from his chair as you entered. “Hi,” he waved. “I’m Dr Jakarta. I’ll be doing physio with you today and developing a plan for the next few months that you can follow.”

He gestured to a seat opposite from his, and you took it, sitting gingerly. Your ribs, while no longer broken, still felt bruised. “Are you trying to get me combat-ready?" you asked him.

He shook his head smoothly. “No, I’m not, though you should think about your career moving forward. About what you want to do. No one else. I’m here to help you live with your new reality and be okay with it.”

“I’m fine,” you said, sharper than you’d meant to, then held back a wince. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he said immediately, still looking warmly at you. You wanted to look into your lap. “May I touch your hand?”

You hesitated, then held it out for him. He nodded in thanks, then slowly took it in his, feeling along the muscles, then at there the stubs of your pinky and ring finger. You couldn’t hold back the wince then. It didn’t hurt, but it felt wrong, even though his touch was, while gentle, nothing but clinical. 

He released your hand, giving you another smile, and you resisted the urge to pull it close to your chest. “Okay, everything looks good. You’ve healed well. What we're going to do is go through some tests where we’ll see how your fingers move. I’ll give you exercises to improve your dexterity, grip strength, and flexibility. Then we’ll move onto having a chat. I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to share how you’re feeling about your hand.”

You furrowed your brows. “But this isn’t that kind of therapy.”

He chuckled softly, and instead of it feeling mocking, you relaxed a little. “It’s not, no. Though from what I understand, you’ll be assigned a therapist anyway? " You grumbled, but nodded. That was true, not that you were looking forward to that either. You wouldn’t be allowed back on any form of duty until you’d seen one.

"That's not my role, either way,” he continued, “but whether your hand is functional matters little if you have qualms about using it as it is, no?”

“But won’t I be getting a prosthetic anyway?” you asked, lifting your hand up to look at it again. You curled your three fingers as you let out a deep breath.

“Yes, but I’m hoping to get a baseline to check your progress. Plus, being able to rely on your body as is, as much as you are able to, will help.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you nodded. “Okay, then.” 

“Let’s get started.”

You were surprised to see Gaz on your bed when you got back. Your bags were already packed for your discharge, but you hadn’t expected to see any of them until then. He chuffed at you when he saw you. “Hey,” he called, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Hey.” You got onto the bed with him, falling into his already open arms and nuzzling at his face. He chuckled, giving your forehead a kiss.

He looked down at you warmly. “How was physio?”

“It was alright, actually. I thought it’d be shit, not going to lie. But Dr Jakarta’s a nice guy.”

“Oh, is he now?” Gaz said, brow raised. 

You huffed. “Yeah, he is.” You turned your hand so it was palm up, gently clenching and unclenching it into a fist.

His eyes slid from your face to watch your hand, and while you hadn’t explained further, he seemed to understand. He smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good.”

You remembered his words when you’d asked about getting combat ready. “He said I should think about what I want to do next.”

“With what?” said Gaz.

“With my career,” you clarified. When he didn’t comment, you continued. “He said my hand’s fine, though since he wasn’t there to assess me for getting back on duty, I don’t know if he meant that in general or if he meant I could go back to combat. Will they even let me?” You chuckled bitterly. “They barely want me in the army already. What if they discharge me?”

“Hey, hey.” Gaz pulled you into his chest. “Don’t worry about that. You know we’d never let you be thrown away like that, right? Kate won’t either.” He gave your head a quick kiss, then pulled back just a little, looking into your eyes. 

He seemed to hesitate, but eventually asked, “Do you want to go back to combat? I mean, from what you told us they asked you when you were really young. You could do whatever you want, you know.”

You froze. You’d spent so much time worrying about whether the higher-ups would keep you that you hadn’t really thought about it. But leaving the army, just like your hand with its missing finger, was an unknown. “I’m not sure.” 

“That’s okay. We can figure it out.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. When you pulled away, he put a hand at your cheek, keeping you there for just a moment longer. You relaxed into his hold. “That’s what I’m here to talk about, actually.” When you tilted your head at him, he continued. "I and the rest of us, we’d spoken about this while you were unconscious…”

You leant up to nip at his jaw. “If you guys try to railroad me, I’m gonna cook something so foul you all take sick leave with me.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No. Not anymore.” He gave you another kiss, then pushed on. “How would you feel about being mates?”

You froze. Sat up. Looked him in the eyes. Part of you wanted to make a joke about already being friends, but it died on your tongue when you saw the earnestness in his eyes, the way he’d started biting his lip. “You…” You swallowed, face hot and eyes stinging. Yu blinked away the tears that had started to form. “Really?” you asked, your voice small.

He nodded. “We realised the same thing as you, probably – that it wasn’t guaranteed that you’d stay in the army, or be discharged, or anything, and…what we have is fragile right now. None of us want that with you. For you,” he said. He leaned in until his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re pack, now. One of us.”

You gave him a watery smile, then leaned in, letting your kiss linger against him. You broke apart with a laugh that hurt your ribs. “Fucking hell.”

He chuckled. “Is that all you have to say?” He leaned in and nipped to in the same spot you'd done to him. “After my little speech?”

You wiped at your eyes. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. “Just processing.” You looked down on the bed between your bodies for a moment, then back up to him. “You mean it.” His smile faded, and his thumb rubbed at your cheek just beneath your eye as he nodded. You nodded back. “Alright, then.”

He perked up, his smile widening again. “Yeah?” When you nodded again, it was his turn to laugh, head falling to your shoulder as he held you tighter.

You both sat there, enjoying each other’s warmth and scents. Yours was still recovering from the stress response when you were held captive, always a little spicier. It was Soap who noticed first, but none of them ever made a bad comment about it. They still avoided your scent glands but nuzzled into your neck around them plenty, as Gaz was doing at that moment, shifting so your back was pressed against his chest in the bed definitely not made to hold more than one. It was a tight fit, but you liked it, feeling so close to him. Despite it being the middle of the day, knowing there were people beyond the windows walking down the corridor, it felt like you were the only two people around.

“Skunk?” he whispered into the quiet, breath fanning hot against the back of your neck. You shivered in his hold.

“Hmm?”

“Love you.” It was simple. Honest. It hit you like a truck.

You wanted to turn in his hold, but he only held you tighter, still being careful not to put too much pressure on your ribs. You relented, letting him press his lips at your neck. “Love you too,” you whispered back.

By the time you were cleared to leave the hospital and return to your room on base, you were antsy to get out. You’d been given an anti-anxiety medication, suggested to help with managing your heats based on your appointment with the secondary gender specialist you’d seen before you volunteered for your last mission. Gaz had stayed in your room with you until the others arrived, mainly trying to encourage you that the meds wouldn’t be so bad. You weren’t sure if you believed him, but you did agree to try. Why the four of them all needed to escort you the ten-minute walk from your hospital room to your room in TF141’s quarters, you weren’t sure, but you’d given up on protesting their hovering. Soap held your hand, swinging it between you with a wide smile on his face. His eyes kept looking over to you as you walked through the base. “I’m so glad we’re getting you back.”

“I wasn’t that far away, McTavish.”

“Still.” He shrugged, though his grin was wide. “It’s not the same.”

You nodded. “True. I’ve almost missed it.”

“Almost?” Gaz teased, leaning in from your other side. Price, who’s been walking ahead, holding your medication because he’d asked, even though it weighs less than a kilo, turned his head to watch you, Ghost, at your back. You’d just passed the cafeteria and weren’t far from 141’s corridor.

You chuckled. “Fine. I missed it. Happy now?”

“Not yet,” said Soap.

Ghost cut in. “He’s been whining that your scent’s faded from our quarters since you left.”

Gaz chuckled, reaching an arm behind you to shove at Soap, who, while still smiling, had a blush on his cheeks. “Shut up, you numpties.”

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, sending a glare to the soldier who stared at you. Ghost let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a snort when the soldier sped away, but you paid it no mind. “Thanks. All of you.”

“Skunk!” someone shouted. Everyone stopped, and you turned around, a smile breaking out as you saw Tom running towards you. You stepped past Ghost, speeding up to meet him halfway. You opened your arms for a hug, and he crashed into you, squeezing so hard you let out a pained whine at the pressure on your ribs. He let go immediately, stepping back with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, it's just – you're back!” He looked over every inch of you, brows furrowed and lips in a cute pout. His eyes went misty as they locked back with yours. “You’re okay?” he asked, his voice breaking.

You gave him a gentle smile, pulling him back into a much softer hug. You could feel the way his body trembled against your frame. “I’m alright, Tom. It’s okay.” His breath hitched, and you rubbed his back, resting your head on his shoulder as he snuggled into you.

He pulled away again, looking back at your alphas still standing behind you. You looked around to see Soap looking a little misty-eyed himself. Gaz gave Tom a small wave, which he returned. Price and Ghost just watched the interaction, waiting for you. You turned back to Tom, whose hand was on your arm. “I missed you, you know.”

“I was just saying the same thing. You get it,” said Soap. Tom chuckled.

“I missed you too, and the other omegas. We need to catch up. Tomorrow at lunch? ” you asked. It would be nice to get back into your routine as best as you could.

His expression lit up as he nodded. “Tomorrow it is.” He gave you another quick hug before going back the way he came.

“What’s your plan now that you’re free?” asked Price as you all turned the corner into 141’s quarters.

You shrugged. “Not sure yet. I’m fucking hungry though.”

Gaz laughed, patting your shoulder. “We’re ordering food tonight. Since you’re back now.”

“That’s right,” said Soap. “Meet us in the rec room?”

“I will, just need to shower first.”

Price nodded, turning around outside his office. He stepped towards you, ruffling your hair, then handed you back your meds. You pulled your head back and kissed his wrist, which he started to rub on you, scenting you. “Alright then, we’ll see you soon?”

You nodded. Soap gave your hand a final squeeze before letting it go as Price walked into his office. Gaz kissed your cheek before catching up with Soap, who was walking towards the rec room. Ghost still hadn’t moved, so you turned around to face him. He was already watching you, as you figured. You leaned against the wall at your side, looking up at him. “You alright?” you asked.

“You can use my shower,” he said. Your brows raised. You’d been expecting a yes or a no, really. He added, once he’d seen your confusion. “Lt.s have showers in their rooms. Though I need to use it too. Want to join me?”

“Oh,” you said eloquently. You stared up at him. While you didn’t consider yourself an expert in reading Ghost with his mask on, he seemed tense. His shoulders were tight, hands open but stiff in that way they got when he was trying not to clench them into fists. His eyes never left you, but it wasn’t the intensity you were used to with him. “Ok,” you said.

His eyes widened a little. His lips parted, then closed, as if you agreeing had surprised him. He nodded. “Alright,” he said finally, then walked past you and down the corridor. 

You followed him to his room, catching up just as he’d walked through the door, holding it open for you. You’d never been inside before, the most you’d seen being when you knocked on the door and asked if he wanted to join you outside for a smoke. It was exactly as you expected. Neat, minimalist, almost bare. Nothing on the walls. He had a table by his desk which was full of deconstructed weapons, all clean, all custom. 

You didn't have much time to look around, your attention being called to Simon once again. He’d lifted his mask, and while you’d seen his face before, you’d never get tired of it. His strong jaw and lips that were slightly chapped, but you knew felt soft against yours. Scars lining the canvas that was his face. His sharp eyes, which looked less deep-set when they weren’t contrasted by the dark of his mask. Beautiful in a way you felt you didn’t deserve to look at. He started undressing in quick, efficient movements, and it was in that moment you remembered that you were there to shower, not gawk, and started doing the same. You tore off the clothes you’d been wearing since surgery, trying not to screw up your face at the way the harsh movement sent pain to your still bruised ribs. It felt good, clarifying. You couldn’t wash away everything that had happened, but you would with anything you could. 

Once he was down to his underwear, he walked to the door on your left, where you assumed his bathroom was. He turned on the light and walked in. A few seconds later you heard the water start running. Down to your underwear too, you folded your clothes neatly and set them aside, placing your medication on top of the stack before joining him. His back was to you as he adjusted the temperature, steam starting to pour out of the shower and fog the room. He turned around, then, looking you over. You were glad that if anyone was going to look at you in that moment without your clothes, it was Ghost. You knew that none of the pack would judge you, but with Ghost you’d never felt uncomfortable with showing the parts of you that felt ugly. Your tattoos covered many scars, but far from all of them. Even when they did, they were so numerous it was like an added texture to your skin. You had new ones, now. Ones that were less scar and more recovering injury, skin jagged in the way it got when your stitches had only been removed recently. You were still splotched with bruises along your torso. And he looked at all of that without a hint of pity, like he’d seen it all before. And you knew, when you looked at him and saw the same scars, felt them that day you slept with him and Soap, that he did.

Your eyes were drawn to his hands, as scarred as the rest of him, as they moved to the waistband of his briefs. He pulled them down, slower than the rest of his clothes. You huffed out a weak laugh as you saw the smirk on his face, then pulled down your own. He knew you were watching. You got into the shower first, turning around so you could watch him enter with you, enjoying the hot water on your skin. The shower wasn’t big, and as soon as his towering figure joined you, it felt cramped in the best way. Slowly, so he could refuse if he wanted to, you leaned forward, resting your head against his chest. He brought a hand to your back, pulling you closer. Neither of you spoke, just stayed under the water and enjoyed each other’s presence.

Eventually he pulled back, and you saw that he’d picked up the soap. He held it out in question, and you nodded, raising your palm so he could squeeze some out. Instead, he did so in his own hand. He started rubbing down your body, massaging it into your skin, lingering on every bruise or tender spot until you were groaning in contentment. It wasn’t sexual, or hungry, but intimate in a way that made tears prick at your eyes. You sniffed, lowering your head so he wouldn’t see. He stopped, standing there until you looked up again, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Then he put his hands on your shoulders and turned you around, doing the same process on your back. Then, once he was done, he pressed his chest to your back, wrapping his arms around you. Your own hand took hold of them, squeezing him tighter to you. He tipped his head forward, letting it rest on your shoulder, and inhaled at your scent gland, where not even the water could wash your scent off completely. You sighed, leaning back against him.

You weren’t sure how long you two stayed there, but eventually you pulled away, turning back around. You grabbed the soap, holding the bottle out in question. Once he nodded, you gave him the same treatment, pressing your fingers wherever you felt him tense the most, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. As you did, you felt his hands in your hair and realised he must’ve been washing it too. It wasn’t long before he squeezed out more shampoo from the bottle you hadn't yet seen and reached into his own hair. Then he grabbed the shower head and washed you both off. 

He stepped out of the shower first, picking up a towel and drying himself quickly. Then he grabbed another one and took your hand as you stepped out too, wrapping it around you as he started drying you. Once you were both dry, he led you back into his room. You looked around. “Shit,” you said.

He turned from where he was picking out clothes from a drawer. “What?”

“Forgot to get a change of clothes,” you said. You moved to pick up your old ones, but he put a hand out to stop you.

“I’ll get ‘em,” he said, then left before you could protest. You walked to the edge of his bed and sat down. It didn’t take long for him to return with a T-shirt, a pair of joggers, socks and underwear.

You raised a brow. “Can’t even put on my uniform?”

“No,” he answered immediately, setting the clothes down beside you. You started with the socks, slipping them on. “You’re still off duty.”

You sighed. “I know.”

“It won’t be for long.”

You nodded, recognising the truth in those words. You thought back to what Dr Jakarta and Gaz had said about figuring out what it was you wanted to do. It wouldn’t be long before the army was asking as well. You hoped you’d figure it out before they told you.

You’d just finished dinner, hanging out with the pack in the rec room, when Soap said, “Let’s all sleep together tonight.”

“Soap, stop being a dirty bastard,” Gaz said, not even looking up from his phone from where he sat on the sofa.

“No, not like that,” Soap protested. “Just sleeping.”

Price looked up from his glass of whisky in his armchair. “Where?”

Soap pointed at you. “Skunk’s room?”

“Oi, why my room?” You definitely didn’t whine. You grumbled like a man.

“Yours is the biggest besides the captain’s.”

“But I’ve only got a twin bed, and I haven’t remade my nest yet.

“Ah,” said Soap. He looked around and shrugged. “Here, maybe?”

Ghost shook his head. “Not here.” You didn’t point out that he hadn’t technically agreed yet. None of you had, but you were all going along with it.

“Fine.” Price set down his glass. “My room, then.”

Soap’s face lit up like a child being allowed a cookie. “Yeah?”

Price nodded. “Got the biggest bed, though it’ll still be tight.”

And that was how you ended up laying half on top of Ghost, half under Gaz, as you all piled onto Price’s bed. It was indeed the largest out of all of yours, but a king size still wasn't made to fit five grown men. You weren’t entirely sure whose limbs belonged to who in the tangle, but you didn’t mind. Your scents all mingled into one that was more relaxing than any drug to you. Someone’s hand rubbed small circles against your hip; another traces faint patterns on the back of your neck between your scent glands. As you took in their presences, their scents, your mind turned to the base. The mission. Brand, who’d put his hands on you. You, who’d let him. Would being the best way to avoid suspicion be enough to make it okay? What if, when they found out, they were disgusted with you? Thought you were easy, or that you liked it? What if they wouldn’t want to invite you to shower, or eat, or join their cuddle piles when they knew what you’d done?

What if they didn’t want you in their pack anymore?

You weren’t sure what you’d do if that was the case.

You tensed up, your scent souring at the thoughts spiralling through your head. Then, in the quiet, “It’s alright, Skunk. You’re alright.” It was Price, speaking low enough that Soap, already asleep, wouldn’t hear. He hadn’t started snoring yet. Ghost grunted beneath you, seemingly in agreement.

You took a deep breath, then nodded, though you were sure he couldn’t see it in the dark. You felt a hand near you, and you took it in yours, giving it a squeeze. You nuzzled closer into Ghost, pressing your ear to his chest so you could listen to his heartbeat, steady and strong, and let it lull you into sleep.

Read chapter 28 here

You weren’t dead. That alone lifted a weight from their shoulders. They knew the risks of the job, but there was no way they were going to speak of the possibility. Even if it had kept Ghost up at night with all the ways it could go, his experience being taken by hostiles and the very things he’d done replaying in his mind, but with you at its centre. Gaz had scoured every detail of the plan until his eyes were sore and he was ordered to bed. Maybe, he thought, knowing as much as possible would ease the ache in his chest when he imagined where you might be. What you’d be enduring until they found you. When Price tried to visualise it in his planning, what he’d do if they found you dead, his mind came up blank. He didn’t want to carry your death with him. No more. That would've been too much. Soap had gone blank when they hadn’t found you at the original base. Like a different man. No one faulted his crying, so long as he was feeling again, and they knew where it came from.

The wind, the helicopter’s blades and Soap’s whines were the only things anyone could hear outside of the pilot’s area when they heard a hiss. Everyone froze, turning to face you from their respective dazes. It had been quiet, almost slurred, but unmistakably a hiss. Your eyes were closed. You did it again. Gaz’s face crumpled as he watched you try and fight in your sleep. Slowly, even though you couldn’t see him, Price inched closer to where you were strapped down. He looked over your face. Brows furrowed and busted lips pursed, but every once in a while you’d pull your teeth back and hiss, as if on instinct.

Then, you opened your eyes, letting out a whimper as the pain came back with your consciousness.

“Hey,” Price said, already gazing down at you. His hands twitched at his sides, wanting to gather you into his arms but knowing that he shouldn’t. “You’ll be alright now.”

Your eyes were still hazy, not quite there yet. You whined in return. Soft but raspy. Hesitant. You. Everyone froze. Soap scrambled to take your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Gaz leaned forward in his seat so you could see him too while Ghost picked up his water bottle, bringing it over to you.

Price got out of the way so he could move close enough to help you himself. With a gentleness that brought tears to your eyes, he cradled your head, tilting it up slowly so as not to hurt you further, and tipped some water into your mouth. You swallowed gratefully. “Slow now, lovie. I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

The tears flowed freely over your face. As Ghost set your head down, Soap looked at you, his own cheeks wet, smile wide. “Missed ye,” he murmured, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to your bloody forehead before wiping your face dry.

Gaz shuffled closer, no attempt made to hide the worry on his face. “How are you feeling? Should I get the nurse to check on you?”

Price put a hand on his shoulder. “Already done.”

You whimpered again. “Hurts.”

That was the last thing you said before once again fading out of consciousness.

Soap’s eyes widened. Price barked for the nurse to come back. Everyone was pushed out of the way so she could work. Their eyes never left you as they tried to hope you’d make it to a hospital in time.

As the helicopter was landing at the military hospital in France, the team could already see a team on the landing pad, stretcher waiting. As soon as it landed, the medical staff were running, carrying you onto the stretcher. The pack followed on their heels, catching their discussion as best they could, but with none of them speaking enough French to understand medical jargon, it was a struggle to get anything of use. They pulled up short when you were wheeled into an emergency surgery unit.

Another member of staff approached them. She, luckily, spoke English, likely recognising their uniforms. “Please, take a seat here. Someone will be out to let you know when there’s an update.” 

Price took another few seconds to watch the door you’d just gone through before he tore his eyes away from it to nod at the woman and led the way for the pack. They all fell more than sat into the seats, the weight of the situation making their legs unsteady. The too-clean smell, the bright lights and bare walls only serve to make them more anxious. The only thing that didn’t smell faintly of antiseptic was them. But no one spoke. Soap was bouncing his leg again. Gaz rubbed his palms over his eyes, head tilted back to lean against the wall behind them. Ghost was sitting straight, scanning the room too often to not still be in combat mode. Price took out his phone, checking the time. 2103. He turned to the others. “We need to eat something. Someone should come by to organise what happens next, though that’ll probably depend on Skunk and if he needs to stay here for too long.” 

He looked them over. They all looked haggard. “Ghost and Soap, want to check out the cafeteria? You’d know what to get for me and Gaz if the food’s not shit. Otherwise I’ll order something. Once that’s done, we’ll take shifts resting and cleaning up. Want someone watching Skunk and those doors at all times.” The group nodded, then split up.

The hospital food was shit, but they went for it anyway.

When they’d collectively decided they couldn’t take it anymore, a doctor walked out of emergency surgery and walked straight to them. They stood up, Price stopping just in front of the man and shaking his hand. “Hello. Task Force 141, I presume? I’m Dr Jacques, part of…ah, Skunk’s? Yes, Skunk's medical team.”

Price nodded curtly, not caring for any judgements of your name, though the doctor seemed to pale slightly after saying that and meeting eyes with Ghost. He cleared his throat, and Price decided to interrupt. “How is he?”

Dr Jacques snapped out of his intimidation as his back straightened, the mask of a doctor donned once more. “He was in poor condition. One broken and one fractured rib, an infected gunshot wound, cuts including a long laceration down his chest and several across his inner thighs, as well as dehydration. Lost two fingers, and he suffered moderate to severe head trauma. But he was lucky. The infection in the shot wound to his leg wasn’t so bad; it hadn't turned septic, and surgery for the rest was successful. Besides the head trauma, which we’ll have to test the effects of more when he wakes, he should be fine.”

No one knew how to feel, your recovery weighed down by all you’d been through.

“I imagine you hope to be back in England soon, yes?” Dr Jacques continued.

“If possible,” Price said.

“It will be, though he should stay here overnight for observation before he makes the journey.”

Soap’s brows raised on his head. “Overnight?” he blurted. “Isn’t that fast?”

The doctor shook his head, giving a polite smile. “We weren’t sure of the extent of the damage, but now we do; there’s nothing so bad that it wouldn’t handle the short flight. And it will still be a medevac.” Soap nodded. 

“Can we go in?” asked Price, nodding towards where they’d taken you. He knew he wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t settle until he’d seen you.

“He’ll be taken to a room shortly outside of this wing. You should be able to follow them there once they’re out.” Price stepped forward and shook the doctor’s hand, saying his quick goodbyes. The doctor turned back and walked straight to the doors.

It didn’t take long for you to be led out, still in a stretcher, but in a gown instead of the bloody and torn clothes they’d found you in. As soon as Price saw a nurse, he moved to walk beside her as you were pushed around the hospital, talking about your condition and next steps. Soap couldn’t stop looking at your hand. He’d known soldiers who were still on active duty while missing a finger, but would you want to be? Would you leave the army entirely? Shock rocked him where he stood as he realised that if you did decide to leave the army, you would have no need to see them anymore. Your contract under the O.M.S.P. was different from a civilian's, whose only job was a pack omega; your place with them was tied to your status in the military, not any specific time limit. While you were generally accepted as a pack, they’d never claimed you, not in writing or through a bite. 

They all filed into the room you’d be staying in for the night, watching as the nurse checked your vitals under Ghost’s watchful eye. Soapo waited for her to leave before he spoke up. “We should make him our mate.” Everyone’s eyes snapped to him. “If he wants, that is.”

Gaz’s eyes were wide and his jaw tight in that way it always got when he was struggling to keep it together. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Soap’s hand gestured towards you, still asleep. His voice was thick, accent rough. “We almost lost him. And, when we get back, we’d eventually go back to missions as normal. What happens if they take him off the omega program? Or he retires?”

Gaz’s eyes widened, letting out a breath like he’d been punched. “He wouldn’t be allowed to stay on base.”

Ghost shuffled in his spot at the corner of the room where he had an eyeline on both the windows and the door and nodded.

Price watched you, then looked back to his team. “So you’re saying we need to claim him.”

Gaz cringed. “You know he’d hate the sound of that.”

“If Price put it that way, yeah,” Soap snorted. It lifted up the sombreness of the room for a moment before the beeping of your heart monitor dragged them back down. They stayed quiet a while longer, taking comfort from its steady pulse.

The pack had taken PTO once they brought you back to their base hospital. It was late, and they had decided to visit you together instead of taking shifts for once. You had been asleep for four days. Doctors said it was normal with the extent of your injuries and the following surgery, but that you’d wake up sooner rather than later. Every second you didn’t open your eyes felt like years. They’d taken up similar positions as they had in your hospital room in France: Ghost in a corner that gave him sight from both the window and the door, covering exit points; Soap switched between pacing the room and sitting at the edge of your bed, looking at your hand with the missing fingers. Gaz sat in one of the armchairs, body still, eyes never leaving you; and Price, standing by the door, bags under his eyes, watching his pack suffer in a way he couldn’t fix.

It felt like they had too much time on their hands. Too much time to map out the bruises on your face and wonder who punched you, the bruises around your arms, the bandages wrapped around your ribs and wonder who broke them. To see the stitches on your thigh and wonder who shot you. To see the three-fingered hand cradled in gauze and wonder who took the rest. Every time it would hit them again that you had done it all alone, and they wouldn’t know what to do.

The mission was a success. You’d gathered enough intel on their other operations that squads could be deployed to shut them down on a large scale, everywhere being raided at once so there was nowhere to run. The omegas in your facility got out. You did it. But no one knew if it was pride or pain that was winning in their hearts.

“Please,” said a weak, croaky voice. 

Everyone’s heads snapped towards it.

It was then, as they sat near you in silence, minds a mess, that your heart monitor’s beeping, steady the whole time, began to increase. Ghost focused on it first, having memorised your pulse as it gave him comfort. As it got faster, the whole pack snapped out of their own thoughts. Gaz leaned forwards in his seat, brows furrowed. Your scent came next, faint from the drugs they’d given you but still leaking despair and fear they’d never smelt from you before. Soap shuffled on the bed from your legs so he could rest a hand on your arm, eyes shining. 

“Is it a nightmare?” Soap asked.

Price nodded, moving off from the wall to stand by your bed. “Yeah.”

Soap’s scent wafted grief and anger before he could control himself enough to reel it back. Ghost stood up to stand beside him, rubbing his back as he looked you over. Gaz pushed the armchair closer to you, taking your uninjured hand in his shaky one, stroking your knuckles softly. Your heart rate only continued to increase until, even in your sleep, your breaths were heavy. Your face scrunched up. 

“Should we get a nurse? Looks like he’s panicking,” said Gaz.

“If it continues, yeah,” said Price.

They hadn’t bothered to clean you up this time; you watched the red-tinged fluid running down your leg and pool onto the ground beneath you until they saw it fit to undo the chains holding you up. Ignored the wandering hands of the guards. Bit back the shame of them seeing you wince when they focused there, before they let you drop. Landing on your ass had never felt worse; you almost cried, but it seemed you had run out of tears earlier that day. You hadn’t moved since then. Couldn’t move. Every step hurt. You just lay there.

You’d given up on ever leaving that place. Where would you go, anyway? The alpha had only let you leave the compound a handful of times, never far or unsupervised. And that was before what you did at the auction. Your scent. Embarrassing. Wrong. It hurt the clients and shamed your alpha. Got you locked up and punished. A scent patch put on your nape to avoid the guards having to use the masks they’d needed to knock you out the first time. Made the alpha give you a new induction into adult omega life. You wished you had let those alphas that wanted you do whatever they wanted – that you’d shut up and taken it and thanked them like you were trained to do. 

The metal door clanked. You lifted your head. Three guards walked in, chatting casually like they were entering a break room. Maybe it was to them. The tears you thought you’d run out of came back. Your breath hitched and quickened, your whole body shaking. 

“The alpha said we’ve got twenty minutes before he’ll say we’re slacking,” said the one who trailed in first. 

“I already called dibs on the first round,” said the next.

The third shut the door and put a hand on the second guard’s shoulder. “You owe me for what happened with no. 20 last month.”

“Seriously?” said the second guard. The third one was already unbuckling his belt. The first just watched you, leaning against the wall.

“Please,” you whimpered. It didn’t even sound like your voice anymore, raw from screaming. “I can't – please. I’ll do anything. Just not there.”

The second guard leaned in, reaching a hand behind you. Your startled gasp soon broke into a wail. “What, there?”

“Please! No! Please!" you screamed, before an idea came to you that was equal parts relieving and nauseating. “Use my mouth. Please? I’ll be good for you. Just not there. Please!”

The second guard froze, the third groaning as he pulled himself out. Even when you forgot his name and face, you couldn’t forget the smell in that moment. Sweat, blood, musk, and fear. You were choking on it. The third guard walked over to you, gripping your jaw until your mouth opened. “You want me to, eh?” he crooned in a mockingly sweet voice. “Alright, then. Since you asked, Skunk.”

You woke up with a start, chest heaving, rapid beeping in your ears. It was bright, too bright. A hand was on your arm. You thrashed as best you could to get rid of it, but a spark of pain hit you in the chest when you tried to twist around. The arm gripped you tighter. “Skunk, wait. Calm down; it's okay.”

You hissed, trying to get away from the guard, twisting again, but it only made you yelp. 

“Skunk.” This time the voice was softer. Softer than you’d ever heard from a guard.

You stopped your struggling, turning your head to the side and towards the voice on the right while your head spun. The beeping still rang in your ears, annoyingly loud. Your breath stuttered as you took in the sight before you. Dog tags, mutton chops and a boonie hat, a hand over your head like it was mid-reach. To his side, warm brown skin and a face that was as gentle as it was anguished, a watery smile on his lips. You froze in disbelief. Could it be a dream? You wouldn’t have imagined them looking so sad. The beeping slowed. “...Alphas?” you rasped.

Gaz half-chuckled, half sobbed. Price’s eyes widened, then his hand moved down, stroking your hair. “We’re here. We’re all here.”

You turned your head to the left to see Soap and Ghost there, Soap on the bed beside you while Ghost stood behind him, leaning towards you from over his shoulder. You realised it must have been Soap’s hand on your arm as you watched him stroke soothing circles on it. “There you are, lovie.”

Ghost shuffled closer. You looked around you, then down, at the tabs of the monitors attached to you; the beeping you realised was your heart rate settling back down. “I…” You were in hospital, and a familiar one at that. The one on base.

"It's over,” said Price. You turned back to him, catching Gaz nodding. “You’re back.”

Then it came back to you. You tried sitting up, though immediately gave up when you felt a sharp pain in your left hand as you tried to prop yourself on it. You lifted it up, and your eyes went wide. Three fingers. The cell. Brand. The guards. Ghost gently took your hand in his. You knew he was a military man – they all were – but you were glad he had his mask on so you couldn’t see the look on his face as he touched it. You shook your head, focusing again on what worried you most. “The omegas.”

Price kept stroking your hair. “Safe. You got them out.”

You slumped back in your bed, a sigh of relief escaping you that ended in a hitched breath. Your face felt hot and your tears pricked your eyes. "It's over,” you repeated Price’s words.

“That’s right,” said Ghost. He pulled up his mask so his lips were exposed, pressing a kiss to your wrist.

The dam in you broke, and, like you never did even when you were a child, you cried. Ugly broken sobs that wracked your whole body. You tried to extricate your hands to hide your face, but Ghost didn’t let go, instead leaning in and cupping your cheek, thumb brushing just under your eye as the tears continued to fall. Gaz stood up from his chair, sitting on the bed opposite Soap. You leaned into his side as much as you could without moving from the others’ touches, taking in the comforting scent he let out. Soap’s grip on your arm tightened before he leaned in too, resting his head on your stomach as he started to rumble comfortingly. 

Price’s hand stilled in your hair for just a moment before it continued at the same languid pace. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It's over,” he repeated, the words becoming a mantra you held onto while you rode the storm of the emotions threatening to break you. Pain and relief you’d never known. Not even when Laswell found you the first time. 

They came for me, your thoughts whispered in tandem with Price’s words. 

Eventually, your sobs lessened to cries, which lessened to whimpers, until you could cry no more. No one stepped away, and you didn’t want them to. Your eyes, already heavy with exhaustion, began to droop. You fought to keep them open even when the room grew fuzzy. You wanted to stay awake. You wanted to stay between them, warm, safe, forever. Until the past months, everything that haunted you felt distant. Soap lifted his head from your stomach, looking up at you with a cheeky smile that made your eyes water again. You had missed it. "It's alright. Go to sleep, love. We’ll be here,” he murmured, as if he could hear your thoughts. 

Ghost leaned down again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Price leaned down to do the same. Then Gaz and Soap shuffled so they could join. You smiled despite yourself, even as you drifted off to sleep.

Read chapter 27 here

As the buzzing in your skull faded, you could hear the dripping of what you assumed to be a leak. You flexed your hands, taking a deep breath, and glanced down when you realised you were handcuffed to the chair you sat on. A moment, another, taking in some more deep breaths, then you looked down. You felt the pain again in your head. You were completely bound. But alive. 

You remembered Brand's instructions. “I want him alive.” The only reason you were sitting in a chair and not lying in a ditch, you figured. It seemed he'd figured out that you weren't working alone. You'd bet money he figured out you were probably in the army, too. But how much did he know? Which army? Which unit? You forced yourself to regulate your breaths, and your chest started to rise and fall unsteadily. Patience, Skunk. Stay strong. 

You craned your head around the room, teeth gritting at the soreness, and noticed something. Not as clean, tools not as clinical, but you recognised it all the same. That small table, your position just barely giving you a partial view of a pair of bolt cutters and a knife, as well as other instruments. The irony wasn't lost on you that you, a specialist in interrogation, were in your position. 

You heard a set of footsteps quickly approaching the metal door. It opened with a clang, the lock sounding before it swung open. The scent of alpha hit you before they walked in: three guards and Brand. The anger seemed to have faded from him, leaving behind that ruthless discernment you'd seen just as he'd realised someone was coming for his operation, for him. The corner of his lips curled faintly, too sharp to be a smile, as he stepped just in front of you. The door slammed shut behind you before he spoke. 

He nodded to the guard on his left, who walked to the corner by the better door and flipped a switch. The room got uncomfortably brighter as other lights were turned on. “My omega…or at least I thought you were." He tilted his head. “Callum, was it?" You didn't answer. He shifted on his feet, then continued, his voice harder. “I'll be asking you questions. Answer, and whoever you work with might be able to identify your body if you're found. So. Callum, was it?”

Still, you said nothing. Brand then nodded to the guard on his right, who approached you, standing just to the side so Brand could still watch. You barely caught the movement of his fist before it hit you in the face. Your head snapped back, the pain from your previous wound flaring until you sucked in a sharp breath. Blood poured out of your nose. You couldn't even bring your bound hands up to staunch the bleeding. Your scent spiked, pain flooding through you, irritation flaring. At Brand, at yourself.

Brand smiled, leaning in, as he seemed to notice. He nodded to the guard once again, and the man stepped back. Brand didn't turn away from him. After a moment's hesitation, both guards moved to the wall. 

"You know, Callum, I liked you. Wanted to keep you.” He tutted, hand reaching out slowly to caress your face. You hissed slightly as good fingers moved over the side where his goon had hit you, but his hand moved quickly down your jaw, past your throat, then to your chest. He grabbed at your pecs slightly, and your brows furrowed. "But it seems you need to be taught your place.”

Your eyes widened as you realised that, even now, he wanted you. Your scent spiked again, and – in what felt like the first time in ages – you didn't bother hiding it at all. Foul, peppery, acrid scent poured from you in waves so thick you could almost taste it. 

You hoped they choked on it. 

You got your wish as Brand’s face scrunched up; then he broke into a cough. He reared back, stumbling away from you as he coughed again. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he choked out as his guards grabbed an arm each, holding him up, though they quickly started coughing too. Once opened, they all filed out the door, barely pushing it closed in their haste. Light filtered in from the outside. It seemed cleaner than whatever dingy room they'd kept you in, which didn't say much. 

You didn't get time to speculate as a guard stormed in, quickly grabbing your jaw and turning your head to the side, exposing your scent gland. Panic spiked through you at the vulnerable position, trying in vain to push the guard away. You started hissing, instincts racing to protect your vital area. 

The panic only eased when the guard stepped back, still coughing. You took in a shaky breath, looked at the wrapper in his hand, then realised: a scent patch. Your head almost slumped back in relief, but you caught yourself, not wanting your neck exposed again. Any of your capturers could've bitten you then; a failed claim might've as good as killed you. 

Brand and another guard stormed in, Brand nodding at the one who'd put a patch on you. He backhanded you across the face. The room was spinning as you spat out a glob of blood before facing them again. Brand was seething. His fists were clenched, the ticking of his jaw visible even through your hazy vision. You briefly wondered how much more head trauma your brain could take when Brand practically roared at you, his face red in embarrassment-fuelled rage.

“Fucking slut, who do you work for?”

No answer. That time, the blow was aimed at your stomach. All the air you'd sucked in left you. When it was hit again, you wheezed. The guard raised his fist again, but Brand stopped him with a hand. 

“Military, definitely.” Brand started pacing in front of you, lip pulling up to bare his fangs every time he glanced in your direction. “Special forces? CIA? No omegas there from what I heard, but fuck, who knows?”

Brand nodded towards your leg, bandaged from when you were shot. The guard nodded, a cruel smirk on his face, leant forward until his hand rested over the wound, and pressed his weight into it. You bit your tongue but quickly broke into a scream as you felt your ripped flesh squish under his pressure, the bandage seeping with blood. 

In a move more instinct than conscious choice, you surged up as much as you could in your bound position, sinking your teeth into the junction between his shoulder and neck from where he'd leaned in close to mock you. Blood – his blood – flooded your mouth, his hoarse screaming rattling your already pained head. He tried to jerk away, but you clamped your jaw, his movements only serving to tear at his flesh deeper. 

Then, a jolt ran through you. Your body seized, jaw clamping harder as it involuntarily clenched, before they and every other part of you slumped, restraints the only thing keeping you in the chair. Your head lolled to the side, and you saw, through your blurry vision, the other guard, something resembling a stick in their hand. 

Ah, a cattle prod. 

The guard jammed it into your side once more. As you lost consciousness, you wondered how your alphas were doing. 

You woke up to the clanging of the metal door. Brand walked in, only one guard with him that time. He had a cold smile on his face as he stopped in front of you. “You really are a nuisance, you know.” He chuckled, a hollow sound. “Gino will live, but he's now incapacitated. Half of my staff, by you.” He spat the last word out with venom. His scent spiked into something oppressive. The guard shuffled discreetly, putting distance between himself and his boss. Brand took a deep breath, a mocking smile on his face. “Look what we had to do.” He reached a hand out, and you instinctively leant back but were instantly reminded of the chair you were tied to. His fingers, which you'd thought would touch your face, instead touched something on top of it, covering your jaw and mouth. “Muzzle you like a fucking dog.”

Brand's head snapped to the guard, and he nodded at him. He seemed to remember his job, shaking off the fear and walking around you. Your heart sank when you heard him pick up something metallic, walking back to your front holding bolt cutters. 

Brand grabbed your hair, long enough now since you grew out your army cut leading up to the mission, and yanked your head back. His hot breath fanned across your clammy and bloodied skin. “Last chance, Callum, before we do something permanent. What do they know about us? About me?”

You clenched your fist tightly, but the guard easily opened up your hand in your weakened and bound state. Your breath hitched as you felt the cool metal in your skin. You gritted your teeth, heart pounding in your ears, pulling your tongue back as far as you could in your mouth before you bit it off. 

“No answer? Still?”

You closed your eyes. Thought of smoking with Ghost. Cooking with Gaz. The quiet of working in Price's office. Running with Soap. 

CRUNCH. 

You didn't register the pain at first. 

Didn't realise you were screaming. 

Not until your eyes opened against your will and you saw your finger on the ground a few metres away. 

You thrashed in the chair; you might've worried about toppling over if you could think straight. Feet stomping, head shaking, every muscle straining against your bonds as your body sought to escape the pain. 

Your training kicked back in, and you focused on your breathing, shaky and uneven. You focused on steadying it until your senses returned to you, then on other things. Louis and his missing finger that he never explained the loss of. The coolness of the room that felt nice now that it felt like your hand was pushing fire throughout your body. The omegas back on base that had no idea what you were doing. The lone tear running a track down skin that felt surprisingly grimy, though you weren't sure if that was dirt or sweat. Whether the omegas escaped, and if they were found by one of yours. Having a do-over of the time the pack brought you to the pub, before you knew how they felt about you. Even still, you couldn't look away from your finger. Not until Brand yanked your hair again. You'd never seen him smile wider. “One more time. Who do you work for?”

The guard set up the bolt cutters again. You yelled when the metal brushed against your new stump. Tears started flowing freely, then, mixing with the blood from your nose and moving down your front in rivulets. Brand leaned in, pressing a mockingly affectionate kiss to your muzzle.

You whimpered knowing no one was there. Not yet. You hoped your pack was okay. 

CRUNCH. 

It was funny, what brought back memories.

“Alpha, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” No one seemed to hear you. One guard dragged you by the hair, another halfheartedly grabbing your arm. Lilah was just in front of you, walking next to her alpha, Caleb, the boss of the farm. Neither of them looked back.

It was only when you reached the showing area that you were dropped. The other omegas were already there, standing in a line. You tried to scurry over to them and get in line too when the guard that had been holding your hair yanked it back again, then looked to Caleb. His face was set impassively as he spoke. “Order.” His voice was raspy but deep, always carrying across a room, making even other alphas pause and listen. “Order is the bedrock of this farm. Everyone must play their role, or none of this functions.” He gestured with a hand to you. “This omega was caught eating an extra share from the food pot.” Your fellow omegas' eyes widened, some outright glaring at you. You turned to Lilah, but she kept her focus ahead, hand on Caleb’s arm. “He used his position in the kitchen to advantage himself. And for that, he must be punished.” You tried not to flinch as his eyes finally landed on you, examining you. “Twenty lashes.”

Your eyes widened. You opened your mouth to plead for mercy, but the sharpening of his eyes and the bearing his scent down on you shut you up. The guard still holding you pulled until your back was facing the omegas. The other stood behind you, waiting. In that position you faced Caleb and Lilah, and you were glad. As the first lash came, you looked into Lilah’s eyes. Caleb, you’d never expect better from. But Lilah? She was the one who told you to eat from the pot in the first place. Took care of you. Made your existence a little less lonely. And, still, she wouldn’t look at you. Your eyes – stinging from the lashes or the betrayal, you weren't sure – focused on her claim bite, still visible on her bare neck. Your young fangs dug into your bottom lip in a rage so hot it overpowered the pain.

You only realised the lashes were done when you noticed Caleb stroll away and the guards start ferrying the omegas back to their quarters. Lilah finally made eye contact with you, her blank face breaking as she made her way over to you, arms outstretched. You hissed, and she backed up immediately, hands up in a placating gesture. “I…” She looked over your face, your back, and the blood that ran from it to your torso in your crouched position. “Let me help you up. We need to go back to our room.” 

You sneered and sucked in a deep breath before pushing yourself up from the floor. The room swayed for a moment. You tried to focus on the way you felt while being whipped, which kept you walking, but it was quickly giving way to exhaustion. She followed a few steps behind as you made your way to the room, stopping at a doorway with a guard. You didn't wait up for her as you stormed inside. The other omegas, even the ones that had looked upset, rushed over to you once you were there, their questions all melting into an indecipherable noise; whines and yips as they saw the damage were the only things you could make out.

“Give him space,” Lilah called as she walked through the door and shut it behind her, carrying a first aid kit. The others scattered off to their own beds or on the floor in small groups, still glancing at you when they thought you weren't looking. You hissed again as Lilah approached. She stopped, holding the kit up. Then, low enough so only you could hear, “Please.”

You narrowed your eyes, sighed, and moved across your bed so she had space to sit down. Your scent, still with the milk of a pup, was sour and curdled, and she scrunched her nose as she got close. You turned your back to her so she could get to work. For a while, only the sound of murmured conversation was in your ears; the smell of omega and blood as she cleaned the wounds was all you could smell. You held your tongue until you were sure that what next came out of your mouth would be a question and not a curse. “Is that him?”

Her hand stilled on your back. “Who?” 

“Alpha fucking Caleb,” you sneered. “Is that your mate?”

The pause before she answered was too long. Too awkward. You felt her sigh against your shoulder. “Yes.”

You whipped your head around. “And you never thought to share?”

She put a hand on your shoulder. “056. I’m sorry. I didn't defend you when I got you into that mess in the first place. It won’t happen again.” You turned around once you heard the click of the first aid kit shutting. Lilah’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “I promise, pup. I mean it.”

You eyed her warily. “The bite doesn’t mean you have to do what he wants?” She shook her head fervently. “So you’ll take care of us?”

She gave you a watery smile. “I’ll take care of all of you. I’ll do my best.”

After a moment, some of the tension in you eased, the grip that had been on your heart earlier. When Alpha Caleb had entered the kitchen, she’d become someone else. The her from back then would never have said sorry, or helped you with your wounds, or nearly cried, you didn’t think. You didn't know which one she was, but you didn't know if you could do this without her. When she opened her arms in invitation, you shuffled into them, letting her rub her wrists over your nape to scent you, her hands avoiding your newly bandaged back. She gave you a kiss on the forehead, then pulled back, smiling more stably that time. More genuine.

You smiled back.

You didn't know how much a promise could be broken.

You woke up after bumping your head into something. All the pain that sleep had blocked came back to you. There was indistinct shouting, but your head felt like it was full of cotton. Slowly, you opened your eyes, sucking in a breath at the brightness, but eventually they adjusted. You were on the floor of a van, arms bound behind you and ankles tied together, from what you could tell from trying to move. A boot was less than a metre away from your face. You focused on the pain, letting it sharpen your senses, and in time, it came back to you.

“Faster! I can see them!”

You whined as the van took a sharp turn, your bound body unable to stop you from hitting the side. The force rolled you over, and you hissed a breath when you landed on the leg that was shot. Suddenly that boot was poking you in the ribs, then rolling you onto your back. You came face to face with a guard, who was sneering at you. You hissed, uncaring of your position.

“He’s awake!”

“They’re coming for him, right?” 

“Must be!” the guard watching you growled, his scent, so full of hatred, overwhelming in the small space. You released your own in response. It only seemed to make him angrier but gave you a barrier.

“Do we get rid of him?”

“Will they even stop if we do?”

“Ask Brand! Radio him in!”

The guard above you leaned in until you could feel the heat on his breath in your face. With your sore neck, you couldn't turn away. “Who is it you work for?” You said nothing. Gasped when your head hit the van again, your vision going blurry once again. “Who’s following us?”

You prepared for the next strike, but it didn't come. The guard pulled away, a low growl leaving his lips. Then he stood up, stepping over you. After a clunking sound, you felt the wind at your feet, tickling your face from under the muzzle you still wore. The guard came back into view, smiling cruelly. Then, you were being rolled across the van floor like luggage, wincing every time pressure was put on your bad leg, your aching ribs, your neck that felt so wrong, so stiff, and your brain spinning. Then you were at the edge of the van. Trees whizzed past the open back doors, left wide open, the wind getting in your eyes. Your heart picked up into a frantic rhythm, yips and wails escaping involuntarily as you realised what they were going to do.

The guard’s laugh could be heard over the whipping wind. “Oh, omega,” he crooned between mocking chuckles. “Let’s see how you fly.”

And, for a weightless second, you did.

Then you hit the ground.

Gaz, ever a source of calm in the sea of chaos that often was TF141, had never felt more panicked in his life.

He had thought that waiting for you was pain. Knowing you were in enemy territory without any of them, any backup at all, with you was enough for him to feel lost. 

But when he saw the omegas in the forest, and you weren’t there? That was like nothing he'd let himself imagine.

The medical team had picked them up so TF141 could continue to the base. He saw your work. The bodies. The flash drive taped under a bed. But not you. Too late. He held Soap while he cried and tried not to do the same. Simon and John smoked more on the heli back to a safe location than they had the day prior.

Luckily you weren't far. They had enough intel from what you’d left in the flash drive to stay in France and plan a rescue for you, hopefully, at the slavers’ emergency hideout further into the forest. Price had almost lost his cool when Laswell told them to be the air team while another squad took on the hideout directly.

A day later, they all waited in the helicopter, hot on the heels of a van that had escaped around the back of the building, when its back doors opened, and then Gaz saw you. It had to be you, tied up on the ground based on the way your arms were at your back. Relief flooded his system as he signalled to the others. They leaned out of their chairs as best as the seatbelts would allow. Ghost readied the rope they’d use to rappel down once they were in position to. But that relief turned to horror as you were pushed out. You crashed into the ground, tumbling, rolling, dirt kicking up a cloud in your wake until you came to a stop, unmoving, as the van drove away.

His chest seized. Just over the rushing of his ears he heard Price shouting to prepare to rappel down. He didn’t snap out of his trance, watching you, until Price put a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes for a moment. Once Gaz nodded, he got into position and pulled open the door, Ghost throwing out the rope. Soap clipped in first and jumped as Gaz sucked in a breath, then did the same. His eyes never left your body as he descended. As soon as his boots hit the ground, he was running, same as Soap, towards you. Soap reached you first and was already pulling out a knife, undoing the ties at your wrists and ankles. As soon as he was done, he put you on your back, and Gaz put his ear to your chest, forcing his frantic breathing to calm so he could better hear, and didn't move until he heard the patter of your heart. He pulled back to look at you, and something inside Gaz broke. A muzzle covered the lower part of your face, a collar over your neck. Even while unconscious and outside he could still smell the remnants of the kind of scent you were letting off, nothing but pain and fear and disgust. Your tank top allowed him to see the cuts and bruises that mottled every part of your body, but especially your face, cracked and dried blood over your mouth, nose, and temple. Fresh blood oozed under one of your trouser legs.

He turned to Ghost and Price as they reached you, immediately kneeling down at your other side. A cry tore out of Soap as Ghost lifted one of your hands. Only three fingers. Price cursed and reached for his comms. “Medical evac! We need medical evac at the rappel point!”

As soon as he got a reply his hands started moving over your body. “His leg,” Gaz choked out. He didn’t recognise his own voice. Soap was still crying at his side. He watched as Price took out his knife and cut the material off of you from the thigh. As soon as it was pulled away Ghost got to work on cleaning what looked to be a shoddily stitched bullet wound a few inches below your groin, the skin around it inflamed and puffy.

While Ghost staunched the bleeding, Price stood up and readied his weapon, scanning the area, jaw clenched so tight his teeth were grinding together. Gaz did the same, broadening their scope until the medics arrived, trying to push down the uselessness he felt through action.

Read chapter 26 here

When you'd be sent to your own bed, only then would you take out the communicator and send messages to control. Short, in the event someone saw you, head tucked under thin sheets to hide the faint glow of the device. ‘24 tangoes.’

‘armed’

‘base underground.’

‘Stairwell and lifts. Security monitor ground floor.’

‘15 omegas, 8 from new influx.’

‘22 alphas est. Pack alpha + guards. CoG est. 4 hours’’

Without any way to get a message back, you could only hope what you sent was useful. 

That evening, you were sat in Alpha Brand’s lap, pretending to care while he talked about his day. You only listened in fully when you heard him say, “You've been doing a good job with the omegas here. I think they're trained enough to auction.”

Your whole body tensed and relaxed within a second; you hoped he hadn't noticed. “Thank you, alpha. But, if I may speak, I feel they would be better with a few weeks' training.” His eyes stayed in you, so you kept talking. “Obedience could do with improvement for the youngest ones; they still question sometimes.”

He nodded. “You're right. It takes children longer to be obedient, but since they can't imagine another life from this one, they won't run.” He shrugged. “Plus, some clients like the chance to teach them.”

You nodded stiffly. "Yes, alpha.”

“But good thinking, omega.” He slowly trailed house fingers down your side until he was cupping your ass, then gave it a firm squeeze. “I'm glad I can keep you.”

He leaned in, and if it wasn't for his vice-like grip on your nape below your collar, you'd say he was gentle as he kissed you. You moved your lips against his, pushing him further back into the sofa, and ground your hips into his. Finally, he ceded control and released his hand on your nape. You felt like you could breathe again, even if you didn't want to, and take in his scent. You hated that you'd become familiar with it. Mud and whisky and so much arrogance you were practically choking on it. But you kept moving, kept grinding, even when all you wished was to jam something sharp into his neck. 

What would the omegas think if they saw you? Would they think you're like them, or should you be just another one of the ones who hurt them, enslaved them? There was one thing you were aware of every time you returned; you'd walk back into your group’s room, adjusting your askew shirt collar, when you'd pass Celine's bed and see her eyes open, locked onto you. While you weren't sure she really knew, you couldn't keep the shame from invading your scent. Neither of you spoke; you just held eye contact for what felt like minutes before you shuffled over to your bed. 

What would TF141, your pack, think? They knew what it took to be on a mission, to stay undercover. But would they want you as part of their pack, their lives, when they found out what you'd done? What you let Brand do? You could imagine their faces if they knew he'd touched you; Gaz trying and failing to act like the news didn't bother him, and Soap not even trying to hide it; Price looking weary and disappointed in you; Ghosts' eyes growing colder. Would they let you cook for them again? Would they let you rest at their table at least? 

You couldn't even imagine it was one of your pack; it felt wrong to use their memory like that. And still, you kept going. Kept kissing him, waiting for the best time to stop without angering him. Until that moment came, and luckily one you didn't have to manufacture. A knock on the door sounded. Brand pulled back, snarling, so you stood up, trying not to look too eager to do so. Then, when he stood too, your level in until your lips brushed against his ear, “See you soon, alpha.” 

You turned around and stepped towards the door just as the guard opened it. You kept your ears open as you passed. “Alpha, we've found some buyers that want to see the stock in a private showing.”

“Yes? Excellent, come in.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side, but you kept your steps even as you walked out and headed back to bed. Back to the communicator. You hadn't had a guard escort you around in the past month. You figured it was going to come in handy very soon. 

Once you reached your room, you looked over the omegas to find them all sleeping. You checked again, and then thrice, before you reached between your mates and the bed frame and unclasped the communicator from the straps you'd used to secure it there. You mentally checked the day. Tuesday. And sent the message. 

Three weeks without you, and the pack had fallen into a routine as well, learning what it was like to function without you again. No quality meals, no extra spotter in the gym, no hands doing paperwork, or warmth to cuddle into. Your scent had faded from the items you gave them, only faint traces left that need sealing to keep. 

At first, Soap refused to do it, always hoping you'd be back soon. Every day he'd be the one to get a smile out of the pack if they seemed down, saying you'd probably take the piss out of them when you walked in and found someone sniffing a bag like an addict. Despite his worries before you were gone, he was the one who kept it together the best initially, but eventually, after a fortnight, Gaz convinced him. He didn't joke about your return as often after that.

Price treated your personnel file like it was his baby, looking over the picture of you again and again, trying to feel a little closer to you by keeping all the info in his head as fresh as possible. But it didn't give enough. It didn't tell of the way you were a mother hen for the omegas on base, or how scary you looked when you were genuinely pissed, even with your scent patches on. It didn't talk about how you always cooked to their preferences so everyone ate the same meal together.

Gaz started sitting in the smoking area, not to smoke, just to imagine you were there with him, complaining about the food standards in the military or some recruit who thought you were some weak little thing. He was the first to use the kitchen again, taking over cooking duties after a few weeks of you being gone. He knew it wasn't his place anymore; he was just waiting for you to come back and hover over his shoulder again, making that face you always had when he did something not up to your standards and you were trying not to say it. He always asked, eventually, though he loved watching you look like it was going to explode from you. And you never disappointed him with your answers. 

When Price called them into the office urgently, saying Laswell had a message mission, they all dropped whatever they were doing and ran. 

They crowded around the desk, faces set. Ghost stood next to Price while Soap and Gaz waited on the other side of the desk. “He’s a week early,” said Gaz, worrying his bottom lip. Soap reached over and scented him as they waited for Price to speak. “We've been tasked with extraction for Skunk and the omegas. He sent the request, so we should have enough information now to take down that base.”

“What are we looking at?” asked Ghost. 

“Twenty-three hostiles besides the boss. Armed, but didn't seem to be with much beyond standard black market guns, AKs and the like. The base is underground. There's surveillance based on the coordinates for Skunk’s communicator; it seems to have electronic security. Soap, we’ll need your explosive talents.”

Soap smirked. “Happy to.”

“There are fifteen omegas. They'll be auctioned in the next few days, so we're leaving tonight.”

Everyone nodded, though Ghost spoke up. “And Skunk?”

Price's lips thinned. “Never said he was hurt, so he should be fine.”

“But he never said he was?”

“No.” Price stood up. “Which is why we go get him ourselves.”

Gaz clapped Ghost on the back with a shaky smile. Ghost squeezed his bicep and nodded. “Let's move out.”

Friday came quicker than normal. You could barely sleep, you were on edge, and Brand kept inviting you to spend more and more time with him as a “reward” for your good work.

It was just before dusk when you heard a noise – shuffling feet and a low voice. A pause, followed by a higher one. All at once your eyes couldn’t stay shut – the door to the omega’s room was open, letting light in. Icy dread ran down your spine, and you were on your feet before you knew it, bare feet padding across the room, barely paying attention to the other lumps in the mattresses by yours. You reached the door fast, and your knees almost gave out at what you saw.

Luca was pulling his wrist away from one of the guards – Leon, if you remembered correctly – who held it in a bruising grip, a desperate smile on his face. “C’mon, Luca, don’t be too loud. I just want to say goodbye to you before you’re bought tomorrow.” Luca’s pulling intensified as Leon’s free hand moved towards his night shirt. “Won’t you –"

Leon’s jaw snapped sideways with the force of the punch you threw. You jumped on top of him, blood pumping as you brought your fist down again, then wrapped your arms around his neck in a chokehold. As he struggled in your grip, you looked up just for a moment to see Luca, eyes wide and horrified, locked on you. 'I'm sorry,' you repeated in your mind, before looking back down to Leon in your grip as he thrashed, spitting blood on your vest, before his body went slack. 

You held his neck a few seconds longer before letting go. As you stood up, chest heaving, you looked over Luca again. His shoulder was peeking through his oversized nightshirt, bony collar rising and falling faster than your own as he stared down at Leon, then you, then back again. You shot forward, picking him up and rushing back inside, pushing the door shut as gently as your panicked mind would allow. He didn’t fight you as you set him down on Celine’s bed.

You didn’t wait for her to wake up fully before you spoke. “You all need to leave,” you said, French as rushed as your mind.

Her eyes widened in the low light, a hand automatically reaching out for Luca. “What? Why?”

“I was sent here to help you, but things are moving faster than I thought. You need to wake everyone else up, and I'll get you out. I promise.” She looked at you for a long moment, likely weighing whether she could trust you. You put a hand on her shoulder and put out the most calming scent you could, your voice still a whisper but thick with emotion. “In the morning, alphas will come to look at you all, maybe take you. Celine, please. You can't. None of you.”

She looked at Luca, at the way his shoulders shook despite his dry face. She glanced up at you in question. You looked at him, then back at her, and mouthed 'later'. She nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” you said. “And I mean everyone, Celine. We’re all going.”

She nodded, moving to wake up Maria, while you went to Louis. Once he was awake, you left them to go back into the hall and move Leon’s body.

After all the older omegas were woken up, Celine got Luca ready too. She wanted to carry him, but you asked Louis to instead, since he'd likely be able to keep up even if the group had to run. And you were sure they would. 

You'd spent so much time just listening to the guards, going out for (both fake and genuine) smoke breaks outside. You never thought you’d need to use this escape route, nor that you’d be taking all fifteen. Just before dawn was the time when there were the fewest guards on patrol, the only ones really being a half dozen walking around solo, as well as two stationed outside Alpha Brand’s bedroom. You had a route planned, so you'd avoid four of the six walking around before making it to the door, which would have a guard with a key card. From there it was just a matter of running and luck. 

You motioned the group to walk behind you. Once you got to the next corridor, you made them stop, then peered around the corner yourself. As you'd thought, there was only one guard, though there were undoubtedly more nearby. You took a deep breath, then walked out with your hands in your pockets like you had nowhere to be. 

The guard spotted you immediately, the only thing besides him there. “Omega,” he said. It was more than you got when you arrived. Being closer to the boss had its benefits, you learned, omega or not. You shook the thought out of your head before you could think too much on whether Lilah had decided the same. 

“Hey, sir. You alright?” you asked, waltzing closer. 

He nodded. “Going to smoke?” Only a few metres away. 

You nodded, taking your hands out of your pockets. As soon as you were within range, you showed him in the face. He crouched down to hold his nose, and you took the opportunity to cover his mouth, pulling out the knife on his vest and slicing his throat with it. You waited until his body stopped twitching before taking his vest as a whole, with its other knife, as well as its gun, then walked back down the hall to the rest of the omegas, the guard's blood already starting to pool on the floor. 

When you rounded the corner, Maria was in front, eyes wide as she took you in. You hadn't noticed the blood on you until then; it coated your hands and the vest you'd put on. You weren't sure if smiling while looking like that would actually reassure them, so you kept moving. “Louis.” You waited until he licked eyes with you, Luca in his arms. “Cover his eyes.” Louis’ face set grimly as he nodded. 

You went back down the hall, motioning them to follow you, then repeated the routine once you reached the end of that corridor. There should've been at least one other guard before the doors. You made the omegas stop before you turned the corner. You decided to go for speed over stealth that time, the guard being closer to your end than the other one, crawling behind him and slipping the knife between his ribs, muffling his screams. You took the pistol in the guard's hand and put it in the vest you wore, pushing him against a wall to clear the way. 

There, at a side door, were a set of stairs that led to the ground floor, surface level. You let the other omegas go on first, then went ahead on the steps. Celine took over holding Luca, who, if he had seen the remnants of the guards in the hall, didn't look too bothered, though you knew it could take time, especially after earlier. The omegas’ scent all had palpable fear, and while you kept yours neutral, the combat mindset you were in wasn't going to help calm them down. None of you spoke; only the sound of your combined panting filled the air. When you got to the ground floor, you had them stop again, going through on your own once you'd taken the vest off. 

Hadrian was the one on duty. He had an earbud in, leaning against the wall next to the door. His key card was hanging on a chain on his vest, visible even from where you were since you knew what to look for. He perked up when he saw you. He'd been the nicer of the guards from the start, though when they were all human traffickers the bar was in hell. He'd tried claiming you, but alpha Brand made his displeasure at that clear immediately. “Callum! Another late one?”

You walked over, smile strained, even though you knew it shouldn't be. What kind of Stockholm syndrome bullshit is that? you thought. “Yeah, and you? Alpha Brand still isn't happy with you?”

He chuckled, walking a little closer to you so you met in the middle. When he was a few metres away, he stopped. Looked at your still bloody hands. “Callum?”

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you drew your hidden knife and stabbed him in the throat. His eyes bugged out of his head, his mouth open. It looked like he wanted to soak, but all that came out was a gurgle. You hadn't muffled his voice, with no one but you being near. “It had to be this way,” you said, too quietly for him to hear even though all his attention was on trying futilely to stop the blood loss. “There's nothing else for a slaver to become.”

He dropped to the ground. His gurgling stopped. You gave yourself five seconds before you picked up his key card, went back to the door, and let the other omegas in. 

You unlocked the door, almost pushing them through it. You had Louis take Live back from Celine. You turned on the emergency signal from your communicator. That's when the base's alarms went off. “Fuck,” you said. You ran back inside to the security control centre for the outdoor cameras and shut it off. While the guards could see what was going on inside, they wouldn't be able to see the route you picked for the omegas. You ran back outside and past the omegas. “Come on, this way!” You ran around the corner, where the base met the forest. “Don't look back, ok? Just run! Go!”

You felt relief that they didn't question you. Once you couldn't see them anymore, you ran back towards the front door, the alarm getting louder the closer you got. You went back inside and shut the door, checking the ammo. You had an AK-47 and a standard pistol. You slung the AK in front of you, listening for footsteps. They soon came from up the stairs. Smart not to use the lift where they'd be packed like sardines.

The door that looked to the stairwell you'd used burst open. You shot the two guards trailing the point. One dropped immediately, tripping up the one behind him, but the other stumbled out of the way, hit non-fatally. You shot at the guard who tripped, but the other one got a shot at you. You dived, but it still got your torso. The air was knocked out of you, a hand shooting up. You almost relaxed when you remembered you had the vest on; it kept you hurt but not broken. You tried not to think about how that sounded like Price. But that wasn't where you hurt the most. 

Blinding pain shot up your unprotected, also hit, leg, buckling when you tried to break out of a roll into a run. You sent out a retaliatory shot, but it went wide. Another two armed guards filed out, now in a semicircle despite their dead friends. You kept yourself between them and the exit. All you needed to do was buy time and hope your pack would find the omegas in time. 

The AK chose that time to run out of ammo. Before you could switch to your pistol, one of the guards shot you again, luckily in the chest, the vest catching. You collapsed, breath failing you. The same guard raised their gun. You thought you'd feel dread, or fear, when you got into that kind of situation. And you always knew it was a when, not an if. Inevitable. Inescapable for someone like you. The only way you ever thought you'd die was by an alpha, whether killed by one on a farm or killed by one in the army. A chuckle left you, growing behind your control until you were cackling maniacally, throwing your still-collared head back. You tasted salt as tears streamed down your face. Fuck, I'm being killed on a farm while in the army. 

The guard smashed the butt of the AK against your head. Your arms out and you lay on the floor, looking up as the guard realigned his shot. “Fucking bitch. Hadrian…he liked you, and this is what he gets?”

You looked over to his body, just across the room. Did it matter if he liked you? Really? It wasn't about who he was, but what he was. Proud employee at an omega farm, who would've stopped you trying to save those lives. That's why you killed him. And you? Someone who was born for nothing more than being someone's property, whether an alpha directly or the government. 

You turned your head back to face the guard, but when you opened your mouth to speak, someone interrupted you. “The freedom I allowed you, and this is how you use it?” 

Brand entered from the stairwell, face neutral but scent boiling with rage. His eyes locked into you, then the dead guards, then you again. “You did this?” His eyes sharpened, grew colder. “Who are you?”

You stayed silent. His scent grew stronger, the mask breaking as he snarled, then turned towards the guards. “We need to leave.”

The eyes of the one closest to him widened. “Sir?”

“Now!” His voice boomed. “Someone's coming.” He nodded towards you. “I want that one alive.”

Maria's panting has become almost a wheeze in Louis’ ears, her breath hitching every few steps. The wind bit at their skin as their feet pounded against the forest floor. Celine clutched the device to her chest as she ran on the other side of Louis, keeping Luca in her sights. The machine beeped every once in a while. 

They hadn't looked back. At first the sounds of the forest made them want to, every animal call or adjusting branch making them think the guards were on their heels. Hannah didn't know how long it had been when she felt she couldn't take it anymore and turned around. She almost fell when she saw no one behind her. 

Celine slowed down when she noticed Hannah trailing behind. “Hannah? What are you doing?” And then she saw it. Nothing. No base, no guards. 

No you. 

She grit her teeth, telling Louis, Maria and the others to keep going as she ran back to Hannah. “We can't stop now. Come on.” 

Hannah kept looking for a few more seconds, then nodded, turning back around. They hadn't caught up when they heard Maria shriek. Their blood chilled, breaking into a sprint. There, just a few metres away from the group, was a vehicle. The others shrank back, joining Hannah and Celine further away from it just as one of the front doors opened. First out was a man in a boonie hat, then a back door, and a man with a mohawk next. The other doors opened, and two other men walked out. All armed, though their weapons weren't aimed at them. Their scents, while not hostile, were clearly alpha. 

Celine stepped forward as the man in a boonie hat did, stopping in front of him. “Do you know Callum?”

The man glanced at the others, whose eyes had widened slightly, then back to her. “We do. Where is he?”

Celine's face fell as she handed over the device she'd been given. “He helped us get out, but he stayed behind.”

The man worked his jaw as he looked it over, then nodded. He spoke into a communicator on his vest, and while Celine didn't understand, Hannah did. 

“Air evac team, we have omegas from the farm. Skunk got them out, but he's been taken. Requesting air surveillance over the area and evac to meet us for a handover." The man looked to the others in his pack, who nodded. “We're going after him.”

Read chapter 25 here

The plan had worked so smoothly you questioned the slavers’ competence. Not that you planned on underestimating them. You found an in through one of the contacts given up by Millieu, who'd vouched for your skills as an omega guide. The hardest part was pretending they didn't disgust you, which boded well for your mission so long as that kept being the case, and finding a way to hide the tracker and evacuation signal in civvy clothes when there was a chance they'd strip you or worse. You begrudgingly accepted your limited options and had them taped embarrassingly close to your crotch, banking on being able to keep them from touching you up too much. Though it was the collar you wore that made your stomach churn. A lifetime without one again wouldn't have been enough. As soon as your heat was over, you spent the next week wearing one as much as possible so you wouldn’t lose control of your scent during the mission. 

After what you believed to be a few hours, being hard to tell when you couldn't see, the van came to a stop. The sudden flood of light and heavy steps told you the back door was opened, and the bag over your head was taken off. You blinked up at the leering man, Justin, you remember, as your eyes adjusted. “Up,” he said. The boss will want to meet you.” You stood, following behind him as he led you out of the van. He didn't even look back, unconcerned about having you at his back. You held back your satisfaction. 

The compound was, as the intel had said, in the middle of a forest. While there didn't seem to be enough space for it to be visible by satellite from what you could tell, it looked like they put their base in a small clearing. It was small but wide, making you wonder if there was more underground. You tried not to, but you couldn't help but compare the farm you grew up on to the one in front of you. This was more militaristic, whereas yours seemed more a warehouse. Though, ultimately, what went on inside was the same. 

The second man, Hadrian, stepped behind you, so you walked between the two men as they left you inside. It was indeed an underground compound; you only got a glance at the concrete walls before they took you straight to the elevator. It was silent as they brought you down. You ignored the way their eyes roamed your body; you wore a tank top and jeans, leaving your tattoos bared from the get-go. No point in trying to hide it – they'd probably be more angry when they found out. 

The elevator doors opened, and they pushed you forward. The hallway was filled with doors – most with glass panels that foretold what went on inside. It was much cleaner and more clinical than where you were once kept. While there weren't many guards from what you could tell, the few that were around were armed. They nodded at the alphas who walked beside you, and leered at you. You smiled like they were the hottest men you'd seen and kept moving. Let your old training come back from the cage you kept locked in your mind. 

You stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall, a guard on either side. They looked at you, nodded at the alphas flanking you, then rapped their knuckles once against the door. After a faint 'Come in', the guard opened the door, letting you through. You were pushed in, letting yourself stumble; the door shut behind you. Alone. A man leaned back in a desk chair, relaxed, a glass of water on a coaster beside him. His eyes were trained on the screen as you approached, stopping about a metre away from his desk and showing your neck, shoulders relaxed. Vulnerable. Open. 

You stayed like that for a while until the man in front of you was done with whatever he was doing on his laptop – or, more likely, was satisfied with your submission – and looked up. He took you in, and you did the same. Early fifties. Average height for an alpha, from what you could tell while he was seated, with tan skin. The blazer he wore was baggy on his frame, but his forearms, from where the sleeves had been rolled back, were toned. 

He stood up and walked up the other side of the desk. Leaned against it. “Come here, omega.” His voice was soft, and his French was smooth enough for him to be a native. You internally recoiled, then went over anyway. He reached over to your nape – not roughly, but without care for your permission. You braced yourself for the touch, holding your scent before it burst with your discomfort.

He brought his nose to your scent gland, and you thanked whatever higher power may be listening that you didn't react as he took a deep breath in. When he pulled back, his pupils were blown. “You were in heat recently.”

You nodded. “Yes, Alpha. I took suppressants for Henri, but he stopped them for you.”

The alpha hummed his approval. “I'm glad he made sure not to leave his scent on you. Wouldn't be smart; now you don't belong to him.” He smirked. “Your scent really is quite something. You probably had a lot of alpha blood in your family, right?” He didn’t even give you enough time to ask how he knew that when he continued, “And you speak French well. When did you learn?”

You gave a small smile, hoping it didn't look as bitter as it felt. “My mother was French, apparently.” 

He hummed. “Probably paid a lot for you, even if you needed training elsewhere, right?” He didn't wait for an answer. “And he brought you to heel? Good.”

His fingers reached up and grazed your collar, reminding you once more of its weight against your neck. At least it's not metal this time, you thought. It probably would've been comfortable if your experiences with them weren't tainted by places like these. 

The jingle of the padlock’s keypad on the back of it brought your attention back to the room. He removed it, placed it on the desk, and picked up another you hadn't noticed. As he brought it to your neck, he leaned closer, his eyes half-lidded, breath hot against your face. You could smell the satisfaction on him – the want. You kept your face neutral as he placed the new one around your neck. "There", he muttered smugly. “Mine.”

You shivered, and he let that satisfaction curl into a smile, probably assuming it was pleasure and not disgust. You swallowed, and let the words fly. “Thank you, Alpha.”

Hadrian and Justin took you to another door, further down from the boss's office. There was only one guard, who opened the door immediately. Justin nudged his head, a gesture to go inside. “This is it.”

The smell brought you back. Omegas, sex, fear, and bunk beds. Your steps faltered at the doorway, but you pushed past it and strode inside. Seven faces turned towards you. None older than you. At least, as little comfort as it gave you, none as young as you were when you were bought. Though who knows when they were? you thought. The youngest, a mixed boy with curly black hair and an angry expression, clung to another one of them, a blonde woman, with a hand on the boy's shoulder like she was protecting her pup. 

You put on as gentle a smile as you could, letting out a calming scent. "Hi," you spoke in French. “I'm Callum.”

The two omegas on the far end relaxed a little; the others seemed wary. Good. That keeps you alive. The boy bared his small, round fangs, the woman holding his shoulder turning pale at the sight.

You wanted to keep smiling, but let it fall. Not angry or even disappointed, just present. You sighed, glancing at the glass screen covering part of the door behind you, then turned back around, facing the child. “This won't work,” you started. “If it was just me, then it wouldn’t matter. But in front of them?” You shook your head. You moved further in front of him, crouching down so you were at eye level. “Do you understand?” He nodded, and you released a sigh. “What's your name, pup?”

A beat of silence. Then, muttered through the crook of the blonde woman's arm. “I'm not a pup.”

You let the smile form back on your face, though it was a sad one. Don't wish to grow up too soon. You hummed noncommittally. “Your name?” you repeated. 

He looked up, facing you, brows relaxing from their furrow. “Luca.”

“Luca. Good to meet you. And how old are you?”

“Eleven.”

You stood up and faced the others. They, thankfully, seemed like older teens. You could tell they'd had their first heats already. Only three of them, one being the only man, looked like adults; the others were still in puberty. You looked at the blonde woman first. She gave a smile that faded as quickly as it came. “Celine.”

Then to the girl beside her, with choppy brown hair. She didn't look much older than 16. "Maria."

“Grace,” said the girl next to Maria, who looked a bit younger. She was the thinnest, even skinnier than Luca. You wondered what their rations were like. 

Then, the man who seemed around your age, taller than you, with three fingers missing on his left hand, stepped forward and gave you his wrist. “Louis.” You smiled, extending your own wrist. His scent was like bubblegum, underneath the sex and hurt in it. He smiled back after smelling you. 

Next was the last adult, a woman who looked a little younger than you and Louis, with long black hair put into a single braid. “Hannah.”

“Hannah? That sounds English. Is that where you're from?”

She perked up, giving you a little smile. “Yeah.”

“Didn't think there'd be others from the UK here. But what about the rest of you? Any other languages you speak?”

The last few omegas with tension in their bodies seemed to relax, if only a little. Luca stepped forwards, hands clasped together in front of him, and you swallowed hard.

Ghost noticed your absence first. He woke up at 0500. Scanned the room. Empty, save for him and Soap beside him, still snoring like a sports engine, the only reason he didn't have a nightmare. Gaz and Prince were likely together, he figured. And you. He sat up as it hit him; you hadn't knocked on his door to ask him out for a smoke, your nightly routine since your second month on base. For a second he thought of looking for you, seeing with his own eyes that you were alright, and then he remembered you weren't around. His scent turned acrid before he could control it, Soap's nose scrunching up in his sleep, growling softly at the dominant scent in the room before nuzzling closer, settling once he recognised it as his mate's. Simon sighed, letting his hand rest on Johnny's head for a few minutes, watching him drool on his pillow, before getting up and ready for the day.

The air bit his exposed arms; it was too early for it to be warm despite it being spring. The bench in the smoking area felt colder as he sat on it and opened his packet of cigarettes. He still had to smoke, even if you weren't with him. The birdsong felt more eerie than comforting. His head swivelled, and he felt tense beyond the cold. It felt too open without you beside him. Off. He didn't take his time with his smoke as he'd gotten used to in the mornings. Two minutes, and he was putting it out, stomping back inside to get on with his day. 

Price was next. He'd peeled Gaz off of him in bed so he could go to his office. Sat down as usual and got to work once he was dressed. It was only when you weren't the first to waltz into his office that the clenching in his chest started up again, the one he'd felt since he watched you go in the helicopter without any of them by your side. Walking back to base with the rest of the pack but without you from the helipad felt wrong. 

Gaz's presence and sleep had eased it for a while. But every shuffle past his door and his ears would be in the lookout for your greeting chirps a second before his brain caught up. He missed the pressure on his lap from when you'd sit there, claiming it like your own personal chair, enveloping him in your scent. He'd never thought about how glad he was he got to smell it up close so often. He wished he'd found a way to show he appreciated that, instead of telling you off for distracting him but never pushing you away. You knew, right?

Your voice murmuring low in his ear felt like a lullaby and almost made him fall back asleep an hour after waking up, but it was one he didn't want to be without. It had only been a morning, and he felt like he was losing it. His inner alpha pushing him to find out where you were and how you were doing when it wasn't possible didn't help. 

Gaz walked into Price's office once he was awake and dressed. He gave a greeting chuff, to which Price replied in kind, but pulled up short at the door when he didn't see you there, too. His stomach clenched. As he let the door shut behind him, he gave Price a sad smile. "You alright?” Price asked him. 

Gaz didn't want to be a pain to the others, knowing everyone felt the same way and was dealing with it, so he reigned in his scent, which he'd realised was giving off how much not seeing you around bothered him. “Fine,” he tried to say casually, striding over to Price's side of the desk. Up close, he could see the tension in Price's body, shoulders pulled back, jaw tight. “You?”

Price took Gaz's hand, tugging him until he got the message and sat in Price's lap, chest to chest. Gaz hummed and leaned his head against John's shoulder, giving his best approximation of a purr. As they stayed like that, Price relaxed more and more, the tightness never quite leaving but allowing him to sit back properly in his chair. He leaned his head down, kissing Gaz's nape where his bite mark was. “Better now.” Gaz pulled his back, pressing his lips against John's softly. Not out of hunger, but to say I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. 

When they pulled back, John rested his forehead against Gaz's. Gaz tested a hand on John's cheek, letting his fingers brush his mutton chops. “He’ll be ok,” Gaz muttered under his breath. He wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to convince. 

John sighed, kissing Gaz again, then picked back up his pen. 

Soap was already in the gym at the treadmills when Gaz walked in. He paused the machine, face falling as he saw Gaz was alone. He'd already remembered you were gone. Ghost never really complained, even when Soap invited himself over to his room, but Ghost had asked him first once they saw you off, and he was beyond glad. Having someone near eased the worry. He hoped that he'd get more than the little time he'd had to spend time with you, knowing he loved you. That you felt the same. 

He wanted you to call him an ass and use his last name instead of Soap when he teased you in that way that sounded like a reprimand from most but made his core feel hot and his cheeks flush. He wanted you to pull him in for a kiss before you outran him, like you weren't the smallest soldier he'd seen on the field since Laswell. 

Why did he let you spend some of your last days on base angry with them? A few chats between your heat and leaving for the mission didn't feel like enough. It would never be enough. 

Gaz leaned into his neck after greeting him, giving him a small lick on his nape. “You good?”

Soap shook his head. “Miss him already.”

“Yeah.” Gaz knew the feeling. 

TF141 sat in their rec room, seated at the dining table. Ghost sat with his back straight, hands in loose fists on his thighs. Soap, next to him, his knee bouncing, was staring into space. Gaz watched Soap's knee, the sound of the table jostling every time creating a drone in his skull. Price leaned back, arms crossed, jaw twitching. 

It was dinnertime. No food was in front of them. 

They could cook. Gaz used to be in charge of cooking most of the time. Even Soap was capable of getting something to the table without it being completely burnt. But the pots, the stove – they were yours. They all seemed to have made an unspoken agreement that touching that space without you there felt…wrong, somehow. 

“What are we having tonight?” John asked. No one answered. Soap's knee was the only movement. “Chinese?” he added eventually. 

“Nah, not feeling it,” said Ghost. 

“Pizza?” 

“Yeah,” Soap said when it seemed no one would respond again. He was still staring into space. “With pineapple.”

“No, not again,” said Gaz. 

“It's good, though.”

“To you.” And him. Gaz looked up at Soap until Soap made eye contact, giving a wan smile. He turned to Ghost. “And you?”

Ghost nodded. “That works.”

Price felt the weight on his chest lift a little as he watched the interaction. It was too quiet. You weren't even that loud, but your missing presence had stolen something from the atmosphere. Conversations and check-ins were murmured in an ear instead of shouted across a room. There were fewer smiles. Fewer laughs. Price forgot to take breaks from his computer, and his eyes smarted. No one got their personal best in PT without you there to show off or to try to catch up to. Lunch was boring without you with them, or watching you hang out with your omega friends. At least they still had each other around. 

He tried not to think about how, on your mission, you had no one, and dialled the pizza place for collection. 

“Pizza it is.”

The day passed faster than you'd thought. Mostly it was getting to know the omegas under your care, if you could call it that. I'm doing this to protect them, and stop this; you had to remind yourself repeatedly when you gave them ‘corrections’ for the wrong behaviour. You refused to let them act in a way that would lead to punishments by the alphas. 

It was time for bed for them. You'd said your goodnights and were being led back to the boss's office by Justin this time. The same two guards knocked on the door and opened it. They let you walk in instead of pushing you this time. The room’s lights, almost uncomfortably fluorescent earlier, were dimmed and warmed into a glow that reminded you of candlelight. Once again, you bared your neck to the boss, who, this time, was sitting on the sofa, a drink in hand. “Sit,” he said lightly enough, patting the spot beside him, though you both knew it was an order. 

You complied gingerly. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip, then brought it to your mouth. You drank, trying to take a sip too, but he didn't move the glass, so you kept on drinking. It was whisky. You didn't have the kind of money or care to know much, but it tasted expensive. Once he pulled the glass back, you bowed your head. “Thank you, Alpha." You felt like a programmed drone, but it was what would keep you alive. 

“Alpha Brand.”

You nodded. “Alpha Brand.” 

He leaned forward. “I have been wondering…how does it feel being an omega guide in a place like this?” He waved a hand about, though you got his meaning. 

You looked him in the eye and held it for the first time since you'd arrived, wondering what his play was. You weren’t the only one on site, let alone the only one he would have come across. You decided to go for relative honesty. “It's strange, Alpha. I know my place, but I'm not quite the same as the others.” 

He smiled sardonically. “Ah, yes. That must be interesting.” His hand crept towards your thigh. “So how did Millieu get you to submit?”

You didn't let yourself tense up too much. No omega in this system would get away with never being touched. Instead, letting your mind go elsewhere, you reached a hand out until it rested on his chest, leaning even closer until your lips grazed his ear. “By letting me find my own way to work.”

You let your hand dance lightly, shoving down the fear that he wouldn't be open to something like this. But luckily, he raised an eyebrow, his smile widening into something smug. “Oh?” he drawled. “Then show me.”

You put on your sultriest smile, climbing into Brand’s lap slowly and pressing your body close to his, ignoring Lilah's voice in your head, reminding you how to move your hips. 

Read chapter 24 here