In the Shadow of Strength - Chapter 8
Task Force 141 x Omega OCs | Main Pairing: Ghost xOC
Content & Warnings: Omegaverse, Multiple OCs, Extreme Slow Burn, Mention of Violence and Sexual Content
Word Count: ~14.1k
AO3 Link | Masterlist
The walk back to the barracks after breakfast was more brutal than I wanted to admit. Every step sent a fresh wave of ache through my body. I was sore… everywhere.
In the next day or two, I was sure bruises would bloom in all the worst places. And with how badly my legs were shaking, even making it to the bathroom later would probably feel like a full-blown mission.
For the most part, all of us omegas kept quiet during the slow, painful trek back. No one had the energy for conversation, all focused on trying to survive each step. The boys had gone back to work, so there was no one to lean on besides each other.
Loud, close barking breaks through our quiet walk. It’s sharp and frantic, making me stop in my tracks. It wasn’t unusual to hear dogs around base, but it was weird to have it this close. The barking also wasn’t the disciplined barks I had grown used to hearing. It was desperate. Eager.
The others paused beside me, their own exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Bee opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, two dogs tore around the corner ahead of us. Their paws slide against the concrete before they bolt toward us.
I stepped forward instinctively, arms out, shielding the other girls, a growl built in the back of my throat, half warning, half instinct.
But just as the dogs reached us, everything shifted.
The one in front dropped to the ground in front of my feet. It lies its body low and its ears flat as it lets out a long, soulful howl that sends a chill down my spine.
The lead dog, a Malinois with amber eyes, whimpered before gently nudging my leg. That’s when I noticed the patches on its vest.
SEARCH AND RESCUE. OMEGA SPECIALIST. There were some medical-looking patches and then a small patch in the front that said: MURPHY.
Despite my better judgement, I slowly start to crouch, my muscles protesting the movement. The Malinois whined again before lunging into my arms. The force of it knocked me flat on my back. Before I could react, he was sprawled against my chest, pressing his weight firmly into me.
“Boo!” the girls call out in unison, alarmed.
“It’s ok,” I say quickly, lifting a hand to try and keep them calm. “It’s alright. I think he’s trying to help us?”
“By tackling you?” Red huffs.
I do my best to let out a laugh, but Murphy’s weight is making it a little tricky. “Think he’s trying to help. Seen it on a video before. Supposed to calm me down or something.”
Murphy huffed and adjusted slightly, resting his head against my collarbone. My arms curled instinctively around his warm, solid body, fingers brushing against the seams of his vest. I look over my shoulder to see the other dog moving in slow, deliberate circles around the girls. Its nose was lifted, and its posture was alert, but it didn’t seem aggressive. Its gaze seems to flick between each omega as if evaluating them.
Realization of what it’s doing hits me like a bus. It's herding them. Bee and the others stand frozen at first, but huddle together the closer the dog gets, unsure of what it’s going to do.
“G-Good doggy,” Bun tries, voice light and nervous. She holds out a hand like she’s placating a toddler about to throw a tantrum. The German Shepherd doesn’t pay any mind to it. It just continues its pacing back and forth, slow and deliberate.
Only when the girls get close enough to each other, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, does the dog stop. It plants it’s butt on the ground with authority and lets on a single, soft boof . It’s not aggressive, not loud, just… satisfied. Like it was announcing a job well done.
I blink, still sprawled on the ground beneath Murphy, my head tilted enough to get a better look a the second dog’s vest.
It’s different from Murphy’s, darker with more tactical attachments to it. The patches seem to be similar, but I can only make out two. PATROL and…
“Riley!” a sharp voice calls out behind us.
A soldier jogs up, emerging from the same hallway the dogs had come barreling through just moments prior. He looks vaguely familiar, and I realize I’ve seen him at the gym with Ghost.
The shepherd’s ears perk at the sound of boots, but it doesn’t budge from its spot, still sitting dutifully in front of the group like it’s guarding royalty.
“Are these your dogs?” Red asks dryly, stepping forward with an edge in her voice that only an omega running on zero patience and sore muscles can muster.
The soldier holds up a hand in apology. “Yes… Well, yes and no…”
Another soldier rounds the corner. He’s clearly winded, chest rising and falling beneath his slightly disheveled K9 handler uniform. His vest hangs crookedly over one shoulder, like he hasn’t finished buckling it in his rush.
“Murphy!” he shouts out, his voice loud and commanding. His boots barely make a sound as he jogs up next to the other soldier, eyes scanning the scene with practiced ease before locking onto the dog still half-draped over my chest.
Murphy lifts his head and lets out a short, dutiful boof like he’s saying, Right here, boss.
Despite myself, a small smile tugs at my lips. My hands, almost instinctively, reach up to scratch gently behind his ears. He leans into the touch, tail thumping once against my hip.
“Ma’am. You’re going to spoil him,” the second soldier says flatly.
Red crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed with the situation. “Mind explaining what’s going on here, gentleman?”
The first handler winces, shooting a helpless glance at his partner. “That’s, uh… That’s on us, miss,” he admits. “They’re part of a K9 recon and emotional response pairing. Specialized for working with omegas.”
The second soldier steps forward, hands out like he’s trying to placate a bear. “They were supposed to be looking for the other omegas that have been sneaking onto base. We were getting them prepped, but they must have caught one of your scents and well…”
“Thought we were the ones they were supposed to find,” Bee finishes, looking at Riley with a bit more softness.
The handler nods sheepishly. “Exactly. They must’ve caught your scent and assumed it was time to get to work. Although Murphy here must have thought you were distressing with the way he’s got you under him there. You good, by the way? Need me to call him off?”
I shake my head. “This is oddly soothing,” I admit.
The first soldier is quick to call off Riley. “Sorry girls, hope he didn’t scare you too much. Riley’s been training to guide groups in high-stress scenarios. Think he just saw a group and figured that’s what the job was.”
Red’s eyes narrow. “So you just… let your dogs loose, hoping they find the right omegas?”
The first handler immediately shakes his head. “No, no, they broke off early. We were going to run some scent drills before we started tracking the scent, but they must have caught your scent in the wind or something and just went straight to work. We’ve been chasing them since they took off.
The second soldier rubs the back of his neck. “Look, we’re sorry. They’re trained, but they’re also really smart. Sometimes too much for their own good. When they think they’re needed, they act.”
“Well, they’re damn lucky Boo didn’t throw hands,” Bee mutters under her breath.
I glance down at Murphy, who now seems perfectly content on my chest, his big brown eyes watching me like I’m the most important thing in the world. Something in my chest melts as my fingers continue to stroke his fur.
“...They’re just trying to help,” I murmur, trying to ease the tensions of the group.
The soldiers nod quickly, grateful someone’s not chewing them out.
“Exactly,” the first one says. “They’re good dogs. They were just a little… overeager.”
Murphy shifts just enough to nudge under my chin again, a soft whine in his throat.
I smile, moving to scratch under his chin. “Who’s a good boy?” I say with the mushiest baby voice ever. “Such a good soldier, aren’t you?”
I turn my head toward the second soldier, taking the chance to actually get a good look at him. Something tugged at my memory. A familiar scent. Familiar eyes.
I blink. “Wait a second… Rosco?!”
His gaze snaps to mine, confusion plastered all over his face. His eyes narrow before flying open in shock. His mouth parts slightly, like he’s not sure he’s seeing me right.
“Rosco!” I blurt again, scrambling to sit up. Murphy lets out a small grumble but obediently rolls off of me with an almost offended huff, padding over ot the other soldier with a proud little trot.
Rosco, because it is Rosco, I’d know that crooked smile anywhere, reaches down, offering me a hand. “DD?” he says, like he can’t believe it’s really.
I take his hand and let him haul me up, my grin stretching so wide it almost hurts. “ Holy shit! ” I laugh, nearly breathless. “It’s really you!” Before I can stop myself, I throw my arms around him and squeeze, burying my face briefly in the curve of his shoulder. “God, I can’t believe it. It’s been what, ten years?”
He lets out a stunned, breathy chuckle, arms tightening around me, “Longer, I think. Damn DD… I thought you were still on the farm.”
“I got sent here a few weeks ago. Wait… what are you doing here?” I lean back just enough to see his face, still grinning like an idiot. “This is hardly the states, and last time I checked, you were a US soldier.” I fold my arms playfully, popping my hip while we chat.
Rosco scrubs a hand through his hair, clearly still reeling. “Yeah, transferred here about a year ago with Murphy. We’ve been specializing in omega search and rescue with the Spec Ops crew here. Oh… wait…” he covers his hand with his face. “Wait, this makes way more sense now that it’s you . I first trained him with that cow stuffie you gave me. Think reeked of you. He must have caught your scent and thought he found the gold mine.”
“Aw, smart boy,” I comment, smiling at Murphy warmly. “Gosh, I’m so sorry, it’s just been so long,” I say, going in for another quick hug.
Rosco chuckles, “Not a problem,” he says, returning my squeeze. His hand lingers on my back, giving a soothing rub. “It’s crazy to see you. Wait… if you’re here, that must mean… you’re one of the 141’s omegas?”
“She is.”
The voice slices through the air like a knife.
I stiffen instinctively as Ghost steps into view, his presence immediately suffocating. His chest rises and falls in sharp, controlled breaths, his jaw tight beneath the edge of his mask. Behind him, Gaz appears, equally disheveled, eyes wide and scanning the scene like he’s preparing for the worst.
“Someone said our omegas were being attacked by dogs,” Gaz announces, eyes scanning for threats.
Rosco instinctively straightens at the sight of them, hands lifting in a universal gesture of non-aggression. “Negative, sir. No attack. Just miscommunication. The dogs weren’t aggressive.”
Ghost’s head tilts slightly, the faintest shift in his stance betraying his scrutiny. “Rank Name. Now.”
Rosco swallows but answers promptly. “Corporal Austin Hastings, K9 Handler, sir. Here as part of the omega training program.”
The first soldier follows suit, stepping up and offering a crisp nod. “Corporal Keegan Russ. Also a K9 Handler here for the omega training as well.”
Ghost’s gaze flicks between them, cold and unreadable. “And the dogs?”
“Riley's mine,” Keegan says, pointing to the large German Shepherd now sitting obediently by Bee, tail thumping lazily. “He’s trained for recon and patrol. Thought they were the omegas you were asking us to find. Just got a little confused.”
Rosco gestures to the Malinois seated next to him. “Murphy’s mine. Emotional support and scent-tracking. He, uh… thought your omega needed some assistance, sir.”
Ghost’s eyes narrow as they land on me. “That so?”
“Hey!” I say, undignified, placing my hands on my hips. “I was fine. Murphy just knows what a big dog person I am.”
Red, still standing with her arms crossed, lets out a frustrated huff. “They herded us like sheep and tackled Boo.”
Keegan winces. “Yeah, sorry. Riley’s trained for tight perimeter control. He was just trying to do his job.”
“And she wasn’t hurt,” Rosco adds, gesturing to me. “Murphy just laid across her like he’s trained to. No harm done.”
Ghost doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. The two handlers shift under the weight of the silence.
“And the reason,” Ghost says finally, voice low and edged with steel, “that you were hugging my omega?”
The air shifts. Keegan visibly tenses beside Rosco, who opens his mouth like he’s about to defend himself again.
I step in, placing a hand gently on Ghost’s arm. “He’s my foster brother,” I say quickly, glancing up at him with a smile I can’t quite contain. “He and I grew up together on the farm.”
That cracks something in Ghost’s posture. It's subtle, but I catch it. His shoulders loosen ever so slightly, and the sharpness in his eyes dulls from threat to calculation. He looks between me and Rosco, reassessing.
“This is Rosco,” I introduce softly, trying not to sound as breathless as I feel. “He was the first to greet me when I got there.”
I lean in, just enough for my voice to drop, and feel Ghost’s focus tighten on me. “He knows me as DD,” I add. “It’s… a whole thing.”
His eyes flicker, something unreadable passing through them.
Rosco lifts a hand, almost sheepish. “It’s true,” he says with a scared smile. “And I’d love to catch up properly.”
He pauses, casting a careful glance at Ghost, as if testing the water before he steps in. A beta against an alpha is one thing, but a beta caught between an alpha and their omega is another. “Maybe over a pint?” he offers, tone respectful, almost cautious. “If that’s alright with you, sir?”
I look up at Ghost again, my fingers tightening just slightly on his sleeve. “Please,” I murmur, voice soft with unguarded hope. “It’s been years. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”
Ghost doesn’t answer right away. His silence stretches for a beat too long, and Keegan glances sideways at Rosco like he’s bracing for impact.
Then Ghost exhales through his nose, low and quiet. He tilts his head slightly, not quite a nod, not quite a refusal. Just a silent warning that he’s listening, watching, and not easily won over.
“We’ll see,” he says at last. “For now, get these dogs back to work.”
“Yes, sir,” the soldiers say in unison.
As they turn to leave, Rosco glances back at me over his shoulder. I give him a smile, bright, a little teary, and full of everything I can’t say just yet. There’s a time and place for all of it. For now, it’s enough to know he’s still alive. Still out there.
Someone I haven’t lost.
As the soldiers retreated down the hallway with their dogs in tow, Ghost finally turns to me. His tone is low and a bit playful.
“You really have a talent for finding trouble, don’t you?”
I grin up at him, completely unbothered. “You act like this is news to you.”
He doesn’t answer, but the faintest twitch under his mask tells me everything I need to know.
Before I can tease him further, our attention turns back to the girls just in time to catch Bun protectively in Gaz’s arms. Her fingers fist the front of his shirt like it’s the only thing anchoring her. Bee is draped over both of them, arms looped loosely around Gaz’s shoulders like a koala.
“The dogs here are so scary when they’re working,” Bee whimpers. “I’d hate to be on the enemy team.”
Gaz chuckles, smoothing a hand down Bun’s back. “That’s kind of the point, love,” he jokes to the omega around his shoulders.
Red stands a short distance away, scowling. “They should train them not to be so damn terrifying to the ones they’re supposed to rescue,” she grumbles, kicking a rock with her shoe. “Like herd the enemy. Not us .”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “You’re just mad you didn’t get Murphy’s cuddles.”
Red blanches instantly, her scowl faltering as a splash of red races up her neck.
“I don’t need his cuddles,” she snaps a little too quickly, her voice rising an octave.
Bee gasps in mock betrayal, removing herself from Gaz’s back. “You do want Murphy’s cuddles!”
Red throws a glare that could peel paint, but it only makes Bee giggle harder.
Ghost lets out a quiet sigh behind me. “Bloody hell,” he mutters under his breath. “You lot need leashes more than the dogs do.”
I’m still in too good a mood to let the comment go. Without thinking, I tilt my head up toward him, smirking. “You offering to collar me, sir?”
He goes absolutely still.
I wink before he can recover, then turn to the rest of the group like nothing happened.
“Alright, let's get back home. We’ve caused enough distraction for today, and I think we all need to rest.”
“Hey!” Red calls out. “ I’m the head omega, here.”
I pause mid-step and glance back at her. “You’re totally right. By all means, then,” I say with a flick of a hand her way.
She narrows her eyes, then sighs in defeat. “No, you’re right. Let's go.”
“Gentlemen,” I say with a head nod to our alphas. The girls say another quick goodbye before we head back home.
“I can’t believe you said that to him,” Bee huffs, dramatically flopping across he couch like her entire soul has been scandalized. Her limbs dangle off the cushions like she’s melted from the drama.
I snort as I fill a glass of water at the counter, then settle into my usual spot in the living room in the tank top I promised I’d wear. “Said what?”
Bee looks up at me, eyes wide and scandalized. “The collar thing!”
“Oh,” I say, completely unfazed. I sip my water and offer a slow, smug smile. “That was probably a bit much, huh?”
“Yes!” Bee’s voice pitches into a squeak. “I thought Gaz was gonna choke ! Even Red looked like she short-circuited.”
“Correction,” Red says flatly from the other side of the couch, not even looking up from her phone. “I did short-circuit. My brain threw a blue screen and restarted.”
Bun giggles from where she’s curled up beside Bee. “I mean… it was kinda hot,” she says, then glances at me. “You weren’t nervous saying that?”
“Not even a little,” I grin. “Think I was just in too good of a mood to even think about it.”
Bee flails a hand. “Because of that guy? You said he was your brother, right?”
“Foster brother,” I clarify with a shrug, “but yeah. Basically.”
Bun perks up a little, legs kicking idly off the edge of the couch. “Ghost was like two seconds from ripping his head off. You should’ve seen how scary he was when he first walked up. Terrifying.”
Bee laughs and bumps her shoulder against Bun’s. “Probably because of how hot he was,” she teases, making both of them squeal like teenagers.
I nearly choke on my water, snorting as I wipe my mouth. “Ew. You would not say that about him if you knew his nose-picking habits like I do.”
“Details like that won’t stop me,” Bee says with a dramatic toss of her hair. “Hot is hot.”
“I feel like you’ve been holding out on us,” Red mutters.
I pause, the humor slipping just a little from my smile. “Yeah,” I drawl. “You’re right. I have been.”
The room softens around me, the laughter fading into quiet curiosity. I set my glass down and glance at each of them.
“There’s… a lot I haven’t told you guys. About my life growing up. About the farm.” My voice lowers as I try to find the words. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… it doesn’t feel fair to dump it all on you guys when we’ve all got our own stuff.”
I rub the back of my neck, glancing away. “I’ve got a few years on you guys, and none of them have been particularly kind.”
There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for me to regret saying anything, before Bee lets out a laugh she had been fighting off.
“Should we just start calling you Grandma Boo?” she says in a fit of giggles.
Bun snorts into her blanket. “That would explain the back pain complaints.”
Red leans back with a smirk. “Should I have taken it easier on you this morning?”
Despite myself, I laugh. “Alright, alright, sheesh!” I say, holding up my hands. “I’m not that much older. Just… enough to have some extra baggage, I guess.”
Bee leans forward again, her teasing softening. “Well, lucky for you, you’re stuck with us now. Age and all.”
“You’re part of the pack,” Bun adds, nudging my foot with hers. “That means you don’t have to carry all that crap alone anymore.”
I blink, throat tight, looking away from them. “Ghost said the same thing,” I say softly, the corner of my mouth crooking softly.
“I’m not used to this,” I admit with a shaky breath. “A pack that’s… kind. Patient. Loving.” My voice cracks a little, but I can’t find it in me to care. “You guys have given me more grace than I’ll ever deserve. And I’m so damn thankful for it.”
Bee reaches out again, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “You’re not on a timer here, Boo. Take your time. We’ll be here.”
“Even if you are an old lady,” Bun teases.
“I swear to God-” I start, laughing as I throw a nearby pillow at her. She squeals and ducks, and the whole room dissolves into laughter and warmth.
That warmth follows me through the rest of the day. The girls make plans to start doing some training of their own. Pilates and dancing from the sounds of it. Meal planning for the week and lists for things to buy the following day get written up.
The sun is starting to set when we make our way to the dining hall, having gotten a text in our group chat from Price to meet us there. The dining hall buzzes with low conversation and the clatter of cutlery as we file in. The scent of roasted meat and something buttery floats in the air. We make our way to our normal table, waiting patiently for the alphas to arrive.
When the boys finally come in, the room shifts. Just a little. Like the air naturally makes room for them. Some conversations stop, whispers start fluttering about. I always find it a bit humorous to see how this world changes in their presence.
Ghost walks in beside Soap, his expression unreadable under the mask, but I can tell by the way his eyes immediately sweep the room that he’s looking for us.
Looking for me.
I raise a hand in a small wave. He nods once and makes his way over.
“Evening, sir,” Bee singsongs, scooting closer ot Bun to make room on the bench.
Ghost eyes her briefly. “Evening,” he replies simply, but his gaze lands on me next, and it lingers.
I pat the empty space beside me in offering, he doesn’t hesitate. The girls stand up to load up their trays, and conversation around us starts to pick up.
“How were things today?” I prompt with a warm smile.
He shrugs. “Fine.”
I scrunch my mouth, knowing there’s probably a lot going on he can’t tell me about. “Hey, uh,” I say low so my voice doesn’t carry.
He turns his head a bit more towards me, eyes sharp and attentive.
“I wanted to say sorry. For earlier. ‘Bout the collar thing.” I wince a little. “It was a stupid joke, I wasn’t trying to push a line or embarrass you. You probably got enough on your plate to deal with. ‘M sorry.”
There’s a beat. And then, to my utter surprise, his shoulders shift faintly, almost like a chuckle worked its way through him.
“I wasn’t embarrassed,” he says, his voice even lower than mine now. “Caught me off guard, sure. But… I liked seeing that side of you.”
My brows rise before I can stop them. “Yeah?”
His eyes narrow slightly in amusement. “You’re usually all tense and composed. Calculated.” He tilts his head just enough to give me a read of his expression. “But that? That was cheeky. Unexpected.”
I feel a grin curl at the corner of my mouth. “Cheeky?” I giggle. “You like cheeky?”
He’s silent for a moment. “In moderation.”
That earns a quiet laugh from me, and he shifts a little closer, his thigh brushing mine under the table. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But it’s deliberate. Warm.
“I’ll try to keep it reined in then,” I murmur with a smile.
“Now… about this brother of yours.”
“Foster brother,” I correct gently, my smile thinning just a touch. “Think my real brothers could give two hoots about me and what I’m doin’.”
“Foster brother, then,” he repeats, voice softer now.
I nod, picking at a spot on the table. “Rosco and I weren’t blood, but it didn’t matter much when you're sharing food, chores, and every scrap of warmth during the winters. We uh,” I let out a breathy laugh. “We gave each other nicknames from that show, Dukes of Hazzard, you ever seen it?”
Ghost shakes his head.
“Ah, well, he got the name Rosco because he liked helpin’ out with the pigs. And I got DD, for Daisy Duke, only because I was the only girl on the farm. ‘Sides Dave’s wife that is.”
Ghost hums thoughtfully, watching me the way someone watches for incoming storms on the horizon. “He important to you?”
“He was,” I admit, the words tugging something bittersweet. “Left the farm when he was 21 to join the military. Haven’t seen or heard from him since. Don’t think that was his doin’, though. Had a fallin’ out with Dave before he left. Think he was just sore.”
A silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s something else, something close.
“If you’d like to see him again,” Ghost says, leaning in just a bit more, “you’re more than welcome to. I won’t stand in the way.”
That stirs something unexpected in me. Warmth, yes. But also a strange ache. I look at him, really look at him, and find the truth written plain in the weight of his gaze.
He’s not giving me permission.
He’s trusting me. Protecting me.
My smile softens into something real. “Thank you,” I murmur, the words carrying more weight than they have any right to.”
But it's me, so of course I can’t leave it there. The smile twists slowly into a smirk. “Think you just want to take him up on that offer of a pint, though.”
Before Ghost can respond, Soap appears like he’s been summoned by the word drink , sliding into the seat beside Bee with the grin of a man who knows he’s interrupting something.
“We drinkin’?” he asks, already eyeing us both with too much interest.
Gaz follows a moment later, plopping down next to Bun with a raised brow. “We’re drinkin’? No one told me we were drinkin’.”
Bee perks up. “Wait, are we going out?” she asks, her excitement immediate. “Like actual out, with music and drinks and cute outfits?”
Bun gasps softly and starts planning outfits with Bee on the spot. Red, coming up behind with Price, just rolls her eyes, but even she doesn’t look totally opposed.
Ghost groans softly beside me, but there’s a resigned tilt to his head that gives him away.
“Not tonight,” Price jumps in as he takes his seat. “End of the week. If everyone behaves.” He shoots a pointed look at Soap, who's practically bouncing with Bee.
“I always behave,” Soap says with a wink.
“Sure, mate,” Gaz mutters under his breath.
“We can probably get Rosco to buy the first round,” I suggest with a shrug.
That earns a twitch of Ghost’s brow and some cheers from the girls. Ghost just leans back slightly next to me.
“Fuckin’ hell.”
Ghost and I bring dinner back to the barracks, the scent of warm food making my stomach grumble.
“Think I’ll be able to eat in front of the others,” he told me as we were loading up our trays. “You’re all trying, so I should too.”
It was a simple statement, but it landed hard. Warmth flares in my chest, quickly chased by something I shove down. Jealousy. The thought of him showing that vulnerability to other stings a bit more tha I expected. But he’s opening up, like I am. That matters more.
“They’ll appreciate that,” I say with a gentle smile.
We settle at our kitchen table while the girls and their alphas sprawl across the couch, chatting animatedly as they catch the guys up on their day. Laughter bounces off the walls, and for a moment, things just feel… normal. Whatever that means.
I pick at my food for a moment when the topic shifts to grocery lists and plans for tomorrow. That’s when I decide to speak up.
“Hey, uh…” I say during a natural lull in the conversation. “Would it be alright if I just hung back tomorrow?”
The room quiets a little, attention sliding my way. There’s no judgment in their eyes, just curiosity.
“I’ve got a call I want to make,” I explain. “Plus, uh… I haven’t really been a fan of the crowds.”
There’s a moment of silence. Not awkward, more like everyone trying to figure out who should answer. Then, Red nods from her spot on the couch.
“Yeah, of course.”
Bee smiles over at me. “If you need us to grab anything, let us know.”
“Yeah,” Red says, taking out her phone, no doubt to take notes. “Did you need us to grab anything? More horse shampoo or something?”
I shake my head with a short laugh. “Nah, I’m good. But… thanks for being cool about it.”
A quiet understanding seems to pass through the room. The girls nod and go back to chatting, but the energy has shifted so something just a bit softer. I turn back to my food with a small, contented sigh, the warmth of their support settling in my chest like a blanket.
Ghost hasn’t said anything, but when I glance over, he’s watching me.
“Gonna call Mo,” I murmur, voice just low enough for him.
He nods, taking another bite of his food without breaking eye contact. No further questions. Just simple acceptance.
And somehow, that says more than words ever could.
My fingers hover over the call button, suspended in hesitation. Mo’s contact photo stares back at me. It’s an old picture from years ago, all sunshine and freckles and a smile that used to mean home. It feels like she’s looking right through me now, like she’s waiting. Like she knows I’m hesitating.
My thumb trembles slightly above the screen.
I haven’t spoken to her in months. Not since before everything fell apart. And now, with everything that’s changed, everything I haven’t said, I’m suddenly sure if I even know how to talk to her anymore.
A knot twists low in my stomach, pulling tighter with every heartbeat. I shift my weight on the couch, trying to shake it, but it lingers like a shadow.
The rec room is quiet. Too quiet. The girls went out shopping with Gaz and Soap earlier, laughter trailing behind them like ribbons as they left. Price and Ghost are both off handling work things. That leaves just me, alone in the rec room with nothing but the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
No distractions. No excuses.
This is what I asked for. Space to make this call. But now that I have it, all I want is to run. God, why is everything so hard lately?
I swipe my thumb away from the call button. Then back again. I do it three more times, chewing the inside of my cheek so hard it stings. My heart’s beating fast, too fast, like it’s preparing for a fight I haven’t even started.
What if she’s angry? What if she doesn’t pick up? Or worse… what if she does, and she sounds like a stranger?
Another one lost.
I draw in a shaky breath and squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the phone to my chest.
Just call her, damnit. Just do it.
Do it.
Do it.
Do it.
Do it.
The phone is ringing before I can even register that I’ve clicked the button.
I freeze.
The sound of the dial tone echoes in my ears, distant and far too real. My breath catches in my throat as my eyes snap open, staring at the screen like it betrayed me.
The name Mo glows softly back at me.
Too late to back out.
Too scared to move.
The line clicks.
A small, startled sound escapes me, barely a breath.
“Hello?” Mo’s voice. Quiet. Curious. Cautious.
I go absolutely still.
“...Hello?” she says again, this time a little stronger. “Is someone there?”
“Mo…” I don’t recognize my voice. So shaky, so scared. I try to say anything else, but my tongue feels so thick. A floodgate of words are lodged up in my throat, but it’s too tight to let anything else through.
“...N-Nova?”
It shatters me.
The sound of my name. The real one, the one she gave me. It cracks something wide open inside me. It’s been so long since I’ve heard my name said like that. Not as Boo, not as omega, not as bitch, but as something tender. Familiar. Mine
My breath leaves me in a rush. Tears spill over before I even realize I’m crying.
“Mo,” I croak again, voice cracking in half. Apparently, it’s the only word in my vocabulary right now.
There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end. A beat of silence.
“Nova? Oh my god. Are you okay? Where are you? Are you safe?”
Mo’s voice rises, panicked now. The quiet curiosity from before is gone, replaced by the fierce protectiveness I remember so well.
I can’t find it in myself to stop my tears long enough to answer her.
“Talk to me, please. Did something happen? Are you in danger?”
I shake my head instinctively, even though she can’t see it. The increase of panic in her tone has me quickly pulling myself together with a heavy sniff. “No. No, I’m okay,” I say shakily, dragging the sleeve of my hoodie across my face. “I’m safe, I promise.”
“Are you sure?” she asks again, frantic. “Because you sound like you’ve been draggin’ your heart behind you all day.”
I let out a watery laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine, sugar. Heart just needed a minute to catch up is all.”
Mo lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Good to know you haven’t lost your southern charm.”
I lean my head back against the cushion, eyes closed, as her voice washes over me like warm sunlight after a long winter. “Didn’t think you’d want me if I ever started makin’ sense.”
“Don’t be stupid,” she murmurs, gently now. “I’d take you however you come. Talkin’ nonsense, covered in scars… all of it. You’re still my girl, Nova.”
God. That name . That voice. I press my hand over my mouth to keep the spb from spilling out loud, but she hears it anyway.
“I’m sorry, shug. I didn’t mean to make this harder,” she says quickly, apologetic. “I just… when they took you in, it felt like someone reached inside me and tore out half my ribs. You were just gone , and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. They wouldn’t even let me see you.”
“I know,” I whisper, guilt pooling thick in my throat. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I was so, so fucking stupid. I probably put you through hell.”
“Wouldn’t have been the first time,” she jokes weakly.
I swallow hard.
There’s a pause, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft. “So… where are you, sugar?”
I glance out the window, like the answer might be written in the sky, then let out a slow breath. “You’re not gonna believe it.”
She snorts. “Oh, please, I doubt there’s a single thing on God’s green earth that could surprise me with you anymore.”
“I’m in the UK.”
Dead silence.
“...You’re what ?”
I can’t help it, I bark out a laugh, rough and too loud, but real. “Told ya you wouldn’t believe me.”
“You mean like… England ? You’re in England?” Her voice pitches up, incredulous. “You’re over there with the Queen and the corgis and the tea kettles?”
Another laugh shakes out of me. “Yeah, Mo. Moved in with the Queen herself. She’s teachin’ me how to curtsy proper. We braid each other’s hair and talk about royal scandals over breakfast.”
Mo gasps dramatically. “Well, damn . You always were a high-faultin' little thing. All them years wearin’ feed store boots and now look at you. Palacin’ it up across the pond.”
I snort, looking at the room around me. “Ain’t quite a palace, sugar.”
“No, but if I find out you’re sharin’ a place with some British boy named Oliver who drinks room-temperature beer and calls you ‘luv’ I swear, I’ll be fixin ta-”
“It’s not like that,” I say, smiling, the ache in my chest easing under her familiar teasing. “It’s a lot more… military than royal. Long story.”
“And you’re safe?” she asks again, quieter this time.
“Yeah,” I say, soft and sure. “Got a pack and everything.”
She’s silent again. “A pack…” she echoes with a whisper. “Well I’ll be damned…”
I hear her sniff once. “Alright, sugar,” she says, voice hitching with something soft and fierce. “You spill every little detail. Names, ranks, who smells like what. Don’t you leave nothin’ out or I swear I’ll drive straight through the Atlantic to shake it outta you.”
I wipe my face with the back of my sleeve. “Alright, alright,” I say, sinking deeper into the couch. I lean my head against the phone as I pull my weighted skeleton into my lap, wrapping my arms around it. “But you gotta promise not to start hollerin’ till I’m finished.”
Mo hums suspiciously. “I make no such promises. ‘Specially when it sounds like you’re about to tell me you joined a cult or somethin’-”
“It ain’t a cult,” I cut in, grinning. “Though Lord knows sometimes it feels like one.”
“Then what is it?” she asks. “This pack you mentioned. Who’s in it?”
I draw a deep breath. “Well… there’s four alphas.”
“Four?!”
“I ain’t done yet!”
“Four?!”
I snort. “Mo, breathe.”
“ Are they all yours?! ” she practically shrieks, and I have to move my head away just slightly from my ear. “What in the blessed Hell kinda polyfairland fantasy life did you fall headfirst into?!”
I cackle, full and ugly, curling more into the couch with my plushie. “No! No. It ain’t like that!”
Mo gasps. “Oh my God , Nova. I raise you better than to be a harem protagonist! How did that even happen? You hate alphas!”
“I’m not sleepin’ with all of ‘em!” I protest through my laughter.
“Yet!”
“Oh my God, Mo. No! Only one of 'em's mine. There’s three other omegas in the pack.”
She’s wheezin’ now, the phone cracklin’ with her laughter. “Oh, thank the Lord. I knew you wasn’t no hussy.”
“Mo-” I drawl.
“You scared me, shug,” he says with a breath. “Alright, let's start with these alphas. Names and vibes, let’s go.”
I take a deep breath, letting the grin settle into something softer. “Alright. Well, to start, they’re all on a team together. There’s a captain, a lieutenant, and two sergeants.”
“Ooh, you’re with the captain, right?”
I grin and huff out a laugh. “No. Not with the captain.”
Mo makes a displeased noise. “Hm. Ok. Well, tell me about him.”
“Goes by Price. He’s the head alpha. Real stern, real British. Beard like a lumberjack and a voice like gravel.”
Mo makes a low, impressed sound. “Mmm. Sounds like he keeps a flask in his coat and reads Hemingway for fun.”
I laugh. “You’re not far off.”
“Alright, who’s next?”
“There’s Sergeant Soap. Loud, Scottish, sweet as pie but built like a linebacker. He’ll flirt with a brick wall if it looks at him the right way.”
“Oh, he’s my favorite already,” Mo says.
“Nah, think you’d go for Sergeant Gaz. Smart, steady, sharp as a tack. He’s the one who keeps everyone grounded. Got a smile on him that could light up a whole porch.”
Mo whistles. “Damn, you’re right. Always liked the smart ones.”
“Don’t I know it,” I chuckle.
“Ok, so who’s the last one? He yours?” Mo presses, her tone all nosy curiosity.
I nod even though I know she can’t see me. “Yeah. He’s mine. Lieutenant Ghost.”
Mo lets out a long, drawn-out “ Lieutenant ,” like she’s tasting the word. “Alright, I see you, sugar.”
I smile and something flutters low in my stomach as I think about him. “He’s tall, quiet, a bit… intense-”
“Gorgeous?” Mo interrupts knowingly.
“Wears a skull mask,” I deadpan.
Silence.
“You’re joking.”
I snort. “‘Fraid not.”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
More silence. Then, “He’s fuckin’ perfect for you.”
A hearty laugh leaves me, and I have to reach a hand up to make sure my phone doesn’t fall.
Mo laughs too, wheezing through the line. “Looks like all those years of chasing after whatever greasy biker rolled through the town finally paid off, huh?”
“Alright, alright ,” I say, still laughing, “we don’t need to drag my early twenties into this.”
“Just sayin’,” she chuckles. “You had a type even back then. Leather, mystery, real broody. I mean, skull mask? That’s practically a bonus .”
I wipe a tear from my eye. “He’s more than just the mask. A lot more. Protective. Patient. Like, good Lord, is he patient. And he sees through me in a way that’s kinda scary sometimes.”
Mo hums, thoughtful now. “Sounds like he doesn’t just see you. He knows you.”
I go quiet for a moment, hand pressed to my chest. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I think he does.”
“Bet you haven’t even let him scent you yet.”
I click my tongue, trying and failing not to smile. “About that…”
Silence.
“Whaaaat?!” she screeches so loud that I’m pulling away from the phone again. “Nova, don’t you mess with me. Did you?! Did you really?!”
I sigh, shoulders curling up with giddy nerves. “Yeah,” I admit warmly. “I asked him to. After we went out to the bar.”
“ You asked him?! Oh my God. It took you months to ask Noah. Now you’re some kinda scent-sluttin’ little minx, I knew you had it in you!” she howls.
“It wasn’t like that!” I protest through a giggle. “We were talkin’, walkin’ around after some drinks, and I don’t know, Mo. I felt safe . Like really safe. He wasn’t even gonna try nothin’, just walkin’ me back to the car. The moment felt right, so I just… asked.”
“And then what? He just leaned in and took a whiff?” she teases.
My breath catches a little, remembering it. “No… he told me he had been waiting for me to ask. Then yeah. He leaned in and we just…”
Mo goes quiet for a second, all her teasing stripped back.
“Damn,” she finally breathes. “Sounds like you’re finally listenin’ to your omega.”
I let out a slow breath and press a palm to my chest, where everything feels warm and tight all at once. “Still not as much as I should be,” I admit, lips twisting. “But I am tryin’. This one… he’s different, Mo. I don’t know how else to say it. He makes it easier to listen. Makes it feel like I’m allowed to.”
Mo hums low, thoughtful. “Sounds like you finally met your match.”
I grin, unable to help it. “Let's hope so.”
There’s a beat, then Mo’s tone perks back up. “Alright, alright, so if you ain’t shacked up in Buckingham Palace, where are you livin’? Don’t tell me it’s some hobbit hole.”
I snort. “The barracks , smartass.”
“Oh, well, pardon me, Miss Army Boots. Look at you, all military. And the other omegas? They treatin’ you good?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, my voice softening with honesty. “They’re… they’re really good to me. Probably more than I deserve, if I’m honest.”
There’s a pause on the other end. Then, warm and firm. “Nova, don’t you ever say that. You hear me? You deserve a whole damn world full of softness. Just ‘cause you ain’t used to bein’ cared for don’t mean you don’t deserve it.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah,” I whisper. “Yeah, I hear you.”
There’s a soft exhale on the other end of the line, and then Mo’s voice comes through, gentle but curious. “So… these other omegas. What’re they like?”
I glance around the quiet rec room, almost like I expect them to pop in just from me saying their names. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “They’re good people. Real sweet.”
“That ain’t what I asked,” she says, amused. “I want details. You don’t casually drop ‘I got a pack now’ and leave it at that. Who are they? What kinda girls you runnin’ with?”
“Well,” I laugh lightly, “there’s Red, the head omega. Looks like Jolene but acts the complete opposite. Bit straightlaced, says what’s on her mind and doesn’t take shit from nobody. Real protective, even if she pretends she’s not.”
Mo hums, clearly intrigued. “Sounds like you two butt heads. ‘Specially if you’re not head.”
“A bit,” I grin. “But, she’s solid. Got a good heart, even if she hides it under about six layers of sarcasm and enough book smarts to fill a library.”
“Love that for you. Who else?”
“Bun and Bee. Bun’s this adorable little thing. Real soft-spoken, but the girl’s got steel in her spine. You can tell. Cutest curly brown hair, too. The type that brings a man to his knees.”
“ Sounds cute.”
I move my head slightly to the side, soft smile on my lips. “And Bee. Good Lord, does she remind me of you.”
“The greatest?” Mo quips, all mock innocence
“To put it lightly,” I drawl. “She’s a spittin’ image, I tell you. All sunshine and chaos. Makes sure nobody takes themselves too seriously. Always touchin’, always laughin’. Got some of that wild-heart energy you used to knock me sideways with.”
Mo laughs. “Sounds like a helluva woman.”
“You have no idea.”
There’s a beat of silence before she snorts. “You gonna try to fuck her in the back of your truck?”
A startled laugh bursts outta me, and I have to bite my lip to stifle it slightly. “Is that what you think about when you think of me?”
“I’m just messin’,” she chuckles breathlessly. “But seriously. They sound like my kinda people.”
“They really are,” I admit, surprising myself with how easily the truth comes out. “They’ve been real patient with me. Kinda… let me ease in without pressure. Make space for me when I don’t even know how to ask for it.”
Mo goes quiet for a second. “That’s a good pack, sugar.”
“So I’m learnin’,” I say plainly. “Enough about me, what have you been doin’ all this time?”
She groans, loan and exaggerated. “Goin’ crazy, mostly.”
I chuckle softly. “Still workin’ for your parents?”
“No,” she says, finally, and her voice is different now. Thinner. Tired. “Um. I, uh…”
The silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable. “Mo?” I ask gently. “Everything ok?”
She breathes out through her nose, shaky. “Got married.”
I sit up straighter. “What?! To who?”
“Lucas.”
I blink, stunned. “Lucas? Like… Lucas Johnson Lucas?”
I can hear the nod from the other side of the line. “Yeah. Him.”
Now it’s my turn to fall silent. The Lucas I remember was decent enough, but quiet, aimless. Not the kind of man I pictured for her. Not for my Mo.
“Congr-” I start, but she cuts me off.
“I didn’t want to,” she cuts in. “Parents kinda forced my hand.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. “Mo, I’m so-”
“Worked out, though,” she interrupts again, a little too fast. “I was able to convince him to let me take Henry.”
I freeze.
Henry.
Sweet baby Henry. That little boy meant the world to both of us. One of my deepest regrets about getting locked up was not being able to be there for him anymore.
“His mom givin' you any trouble for that?”
“No,” she says, voice soft. “No, she signed all the papers and everything. Don’t see him or anything. Just handed him over, really.”
“And Lucas agreed to this?” I ask, a bit in disbelief.
“Part of the marriage agreement,” she says like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I’m sure for most well-to-do betas it is. “He still wants a kid of our own, but Henry… kinda helps me buy some time.”
I rub a hand over my face. “He treatin’ you okay?”
“I mean, yeah,” she replies, hesitantly. “But I sure as shit don’t love him. He don’t love me neither. We both knew this was comin’. You know how my parents are.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, throat thick. My mind flashes back to all those nights I’d drive her away from that big, cold house of hers, tears steakin’ down her face. The nights we’d lay in the bed of my truck talkin’ about runnin’ off with just enough money to start over somewhere quiet. Somewhere free.
We always said we’d take Henry with us.
“Mo…” I breathe.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she says softly. “I just… I needed to make sure he’d be safe. That he’d have somebody. He didn’t deserve nothin’, ya know?”
“You were always the brave one,” I whisper, eyes stinging again.
There’s a pause. Then quietly she says, “I miss you, Nova.”
“I miss you more,” I reply without hesitation.
Mo’s breath crackles softly through the speaker. “He still remembers you, y’know?”
I feel my chest clench. “Yeah?”
“Mmhm. Showed him that photo of him on your knee while you’re playin’ the guitar.”
I smile, wet and aching. “He always fit so perfectly there.”
“Probably won’t anymore. He’s gettin’ so big.” Her voice cracks, just a little. “He keeps askin’ when you’re comin’ back.”
I press the heel of my hand to my eye, hard. “I ain’t ever sure I ever could, Mo.”
“I know,” she says. “But I told him someday. Had to give him somethin’ sugar. That boy still sleeps with that raggedy dinosaur you won him at the country fair.”
I let out a soft, choked laugh. “Ugly fuckin’ thing.”
“Keeps callin’ it Noah.”
The sob that leaves me isn’t pretty, but it’s quiet. Just a little breathless crack in my throat that I don’t bother to hide.
“I failed him, Mo. Failed them both.”
“No, you didn’t,” she says firmly. “You did what you had to do. You were just tryin’ to survive. Hell, you still are. That don’t make you a failure.”
“I shoulda been there.”
“You were there,” she snaps, fierce now. “When nobody else was, you were. You were more of a mama to that boy than anyone else in his life. And you still are. That don’t disappear just ‘cause you had to go.”
I blink fast, trying to keep my voice from shaking again. “You really think that?”
“I know that. And more than that, he knows that.” She pauses. “But if you’re wantin’ to do right by him now, then you keep goin’. You get strong. Figure your shit out and be ready for when he comes lookin’.”
I sit with that for a minute. Let it settle in my bones like warmth after a long storm.
“I’m tryin’, Mo.”
“I know you are, baby,” she says. “And I’m real proud of you.”
I nod, unable to speak.
After a long pause, she adds, “He’s startin’ school soon. Wants to be a firefighter. Says he wants to save people like Nova does.”
That just about does me in.
“Tell him…” I swallow hard. “Tell him I said I love him, alright? Tell him… every time he’s lookin’ up at the moon, I’ll be on the other side, lookin’ at it too.”
Mo’s voice wavers. “I’ll tell him, sugar. Every night.”
The line falls quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. Just full of the kind of love that stretches across oceans and years and old wounds that never quite healed right.
“Thank you, Mo,” I whisper.
“You ain’t never gotta thank me for lovin’ you,” she murmurs. “It’s just part of the job.”
“Sorry for callin’ you outta the blue and takin’ up so much of your time,” I apologize.
Mo lets out a soft exhale, the kind that sounds like a smile. “Sugar, you could call me at three in the mornin’ from the bottom of a well and I’d still pick up faster than a toupee in a hurricane.”
I laugh, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “Still. I shouldn’t’ve dropped this all on you outta the blue like that.”
“Nova,” she says gently, “you’ve been carryin’ too much by yourself for too damn long. You don’t gotta apologize for wantin’ someone to walk a few steps with you.”
I close my eyes, clutching the phone and my plushie a little tighter. “You always know what to say.”
“I’ve had a lotta practice,” she teases. “You gave me a hell of a time growin’ up, remember?”
“Only ‘cause you won’t let me forget.”
“Damn straight.”
We both go quiet again, but this time it’s soft and warm, like two rocking chairs creaking on the same porch.
“I should let you go,” I murmur. “Didn’t mean to steal so much of your time.”
“Wasn’t stealin’,” Mo says, voice thick now too. “But alright. You make sure to get some rest, okay?”
“I will. And I’ll text you.”
“Better,” she says. “You send me pictures of your pack, too. I wanna see these British bitches that snatched up my girl.”
I smile. “You got it. Bye, Mo.”
“Bye, sugar. And Nova?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you called.”
My heart stutters at that. “Me too.”
The call ends, and I sit there in the silence of the barracks rec room, phone still warm in my hand. I pull up my plushie to my chest, savoring the heavy feeling. A flurry of emotions washes over me as I replay the conversation in my head. With a sigh, I get up and move to the kitchen, determined to settle my emotions before the rest of my pack arrives.
I move through the kitchen on autopilot, grabbing the scrub brush and a bottle of cleaner from under the sink. My knees hit the floor with a soft thud. The rhythmic motion of scrubbing is mindless, just enough so to keep my thoughts from spiraling. The scent of lemon cleaner fills the air, sharp and clean.
The scrub brush squeaks softly against the tile, the motion steady, mechanical. I don’t think about the aching pull in my shoulders or the raw ache in my knees. I just keep scrubbing.
I don’t even notice the tears until they fall, hitting the clean tile below with soft, pitiful splashes. I wipe at my face with the sleeve of my shirt, but it just smears things worse. I scrub harder, like I can erase the ache in my chest if I can just get the grout white enough.
I don’t hear the door open. Don’t hear the footsteps. Not until a shadow stretches across the floor and boots stop just a few feet from where I kneel.
My hand stills.
“You alright there, love?”
Price’s voice is gentle, but it cuts through me all the same.
I flinch. Instinct. Shame burns hot behind my eyes, and I swipe my face again before daring to look up. He’s crouched in front of me now, arms resting loosely on his knees, eyes soft with something like worry.
“I-” My voice breaks. I shake my head and let out a watery breath. “Shit. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he says quietly. “Saw you down here and figured somethin’ was weighin’ on you. Didn’t want to interrupt, just… wanted to make sure you were alright.”
I duck my head, pressing the scrub brush to the tile like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. “Just needed to do somethin’ to keep my hands busy,” I mumble. “Wasn’t tryin’ to fall apart or nothin’.”
“You’re allowed to,” he says simply. “Fall apart, I mean.”
His voice is low, calm, like he’s talking to a skittish animal he doesn’t want to spook. I press my sleeve to my face again, trying to quiet the hiccuping sob that wants to escape my throat.
There’s a stretch of silence where I just breathe. It’s ragged and uneven, like my lungs can’t quite remember how to do it right. The scrub brush in my hand feels stupid now. Pointless. Like I used it as armor and forgot I’d left the rest of myself wide open.
“Take it the call didn’t go well?” he prompts, his tone careful. Gentle.
I shake my head as a breath shudders out of me. “It did,” I whisper. “Think everything just hit me all at once. What I did. What I left behind. Who I left behind.”
My voice breaks halfway through, and I don’t bother trying to fix it.
There’s a pause, just long enough for me to feel foolish again. I’m kneelin’ on the floor like a wreck, cleanin’ the same damn spot over and over. There’s a soft creak of weight shifting before Price lowers himself beside me. He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t crowd. Just sits, solid as a stone wall beside me.
“Hits harder when things are quiet,” he says after a moment, voice low. “That’s when the ghosts crawl out. Not the ones from war, either. The personal kind. The choices. The regrets. The people we never meant to leave behind.”
That undoes something in me. A knot, maybe. Or a thread I’ve been holding too tight.
I nod, slow and silent, eyes burning. “She was always there,” I murmur. “Even when she shouldn’t have been. And I just… left her there.”
“She sounds like someone worth missin’,” he says easily. No pity behind his words, just truth.
“She is,” I breathe.
A beat passes. My hands are trembling again, and I look down at the scrub brush still clenched in one of them like a lifeline.
“Don’t want you thinkin’ I don’ wanna be here though, Captain,” I say, finally looking up at him with watery eyes. “It ain’t that. I do wanna be here. It’s just… hard. Sometimes it’s like my head and my instincts are speakin’ two different languages.”
Price nods once, calm and measured. “Talk to me.”
I swallow. “I think I’m scared of lettin’ my omega take up too much room. Of givin' her too much control.”
He doesn’t flinch at the confession. Doesn’t blink. Just listens.
“She’s louder now than I think she’s even been,” I whisper. “And it’s not bad, not really. She just wants stuff I ain’t used to askin’ for. Comfort. Nestin’. Help. Things I was taught to think made me weak.”
“She wants to be safe,” he finishes gently. “And she is. You are.”
Tears prick at my eyes again, sharp and sudden. I let out a shaky laugh and look down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come apart like this. Didn’t mean to drag you into it.”
Price lets out a soft breath through his nose and reaches over, giving my arm a steadying squeeze. “You didn’t drag me anywhere. You’re part of the pack now, Boo. That means your mess is our mess.”
I look up at him, lips trembling. “But you’re the captain… and the head alpha, I’m sure you’ve got a million other things to be dealing with right now.”
“That’s why I’m the head alpha,” he says, voice firm and kind all at once. “So you’ve got someone to come to when it gets heavy. So you don’t have to carry all this on your own.”
My chin quivers as I nod slowly, the weight of it sinking in. That it’s really okay to not have it all handled. That I don’t have to be the tough one all the time. “Just feel a little broken,” I admit.
His voice is softer now. “You’re not broken. You’re tired. You’ve been fighting what seems like quite some time and keepin’ that omega of yours locked up. Now, she’s stretching her legs again, remembering what it feels like to want things. To trust. To be safe.”
He pauses just long enough for his words to settle before adding, “ Let her. Let her want. Let her ache. We’ll be right here to catch you if she stumbles.”
A sob hiccups in my throat and slips free before I can stop it, sharp and shivering. I curl in on myself for a second, scrub brush forgotten beside me. Price puts a placating hand on my back, letting me work through everything.
It takes me a few deep breaths before I can manage any words.
“Thank you,” I whisper, raw and hoarse.
He gives a quiet grunt of acknowledgment and rubs up and down my back.
“You don’t ever need to thank me for this,” he says. “This is what a pack’s for.”
A let out a watery laugh. “Y’all keep sayin’ that,” I murmur, swiping at the tears clinging to my lashes. “But I think… I’m only just startin’ to believe it.”
Price hums, thoughtful. “Takes time,” he agrees. “You’ve had to carry a lot alone for a long time. Letting go of that… trustin’ other people to help? That’s no easy thing.”
He pauses for a beat, then pulls up, sitting a bit straighter. “Y’know… Ghost wasn’t so different, once. When I first met him, he didn’t even want a pack. Thought it was a weakness. Figured needin’ anyone would just get him hurt.”
I blink, trying to picture it. With how friendly he is with Soap, it’s a bit hard to believe.
“Yeah,” he says with a faint smile. “Took him years to let anyone in. Even now, he’s still learnin’. But he gets it, Boo. That feelin’ you’ve got? Of wantin’ someone to lean on and bein’ terrified they won’t be there? He’s lived that. Still fights it, now and again.”
I look down at the floor.
“If you let him,” Price says, voice steady but gentle, “he could help you find your footing again. Not by takin’ your pain away. But by standin’ beside you while you work through it.”
I glance back up. “You think he’d… be alright with that? Me leanin’ on him like that?”
“I think,” Price says, with a knowing look, “it’d mean more to him than you know. Might be just what he needs, too.”
I sit with it for a second, everything he just said. The weight of it. The truth of it. Then, with a sniff and a weak chuckle, I glance sideways at him.
“Y’know,” I murmur, voice still a bit raw, “for the scariest alpha I’ve ever met, you’re… by far the gentlest.”
Price raises a brow, amused. “Scariest, am I?”
“Mm-hm,” I nod, wiping under my eyes. “Got that whole gruff thing goin’ on. Gruff voice, beard, that stare like you’re readin’ someone’s soul and judgin’ it accordingly.”
He chuckles, low and warm. “Soul’s usually got it comin’.”
I smile for real this time. “Still. You’re kind, Cap. Steady. I didn’t expect that.”
“Not many do,” he admits with a small shrug. “Figure if I bark loud enough, fewer people try to bite.”
“Is that why Ghost growls all the time, too?” I tease, tilting my head.
Price huffs a laugh through his nose, shaking his head fondly. “Ghost growls ‘cause he hasn’t figured out how to say ‘I care’ like a normal person.”
That gets a real laugh out of me, short and breathless but honest.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, my tone a little lighter. “Maybe I’ll growl back sometime. See how he likes it.”
“Could surprise him,” Price says, smiling. “Man’s tough, but he’s soft where it counts. Especially when it comes to people he gives a damn about.”
I nod slowly, pressing my palms to the tile like I’m grounding myself again, but this time not out of desperation. Just so I can rise up from it a little steadier.
“Thanks for comin’ down here,” I say. “Even if I looked like I was fixin’ to scrub a hole in the floor.”
He stands when I do, offering a hand to help me up. I take it.
“Anytime, love,” he says. “And next time things start feelin’ heavy, you come find me or Ghost. We’ll be here. That’s the whole point.”
I squeeze his hand before letting go, my voice quiet but sure now.
“Yeah. I think I’m finally startin’ to believe that.”
The room is too quiet tonight. Too dark. I’ve tried to sleep for at least an hour, and I’m getting nowhere even close to falling asleep.
The girls caught onto my mood when they returned from shopping and demanded a cuddle pile. They wouldn’t leave me be, practically attached to my hip as we all worked on making dinner together.
We joked and laughed, making my spirits rise as the inner turmoil from the call slowly faded.
The darkness made it seep right back in, though.
With a huff, I put on Ghost’s jacket, thankful it still reeks of him. I snag my skeleton plushie, stuffing it into the jacket and zipping it up to secure it in there. I sneak out the front door and move to the side where there’s a ladder that leads to the top of the roof.
It’s colder than all get out tonight, but the cold bite of the air and the metal under my fingers is kinda nice. It’s dark out, the nearby light not quite reaching the top of the roof.
The faint glow of a cigarette tip meets me, and I freeze.
He’s there.
The dull red ember isn’t nearly enough to highlight any of him, but his scent wafts just enough in the wind to know that’s my alpha waiting on the roof.
I hesitate, suddenly unsure, before I watch him look over at me.
I swallow and ultimately decide to just go with it. I finish my climb, walking quietly and slowly over to him.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks after a beat, his voice low.
“Somethin’ like that,” I reply, taking out my stuffie and holding it a bit tight. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I follow his lead. The breeze bites through the jacke,t and I click on my plushie, letting it start to warm up to fight off the ache in my fingers. The silence sits between us before the need to explain myself wins out.
“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout the phone call today.”
He makes a noise of understanding.
“Price told me he found you on the floor.”
I breathe a laugh out of my nose. “Yeah,” I drawl. “Cleanin’ usually helps clear my mind. Not this time, though.”
Silence sits between us ike a fire left to smolder.
“The captain told me you didn’t want a pack at first.”
I feel his eyes on me. Not defensive. Just waiting.
I keep my gaze out to the lights of the base, my voice a faint whisper. “Said you thought it made you weak. Trustin’ people Needin’ ‘em.”
He exhales through his nose. The ember at the end of the cigarette flares once more before he drops it and steps it out under his boot.
“Not wrong,” he admits. “Didn’t trust anyone. Didn’t think I was the kind of man anyone should be leanin’ on.”
I swallow thickly.
“Guess I know a little somethin’ ‘bout that too.”
Ghost turns toward me slightly, getting just close enough that I can feel the heat of his body besides me, even through the chill.
“You’re doin’ better than you think, Boo.”
It’s so simple. So honest. Feels like his words strip me bare. My throat tightens, and I hate how quickly my eyes burn.
“Still scares me,” I breathe. “Wantin’ things. Wantin’... people.”
He’s quiet for a long time. Then, his words come out, soft as mist,
“You can want me.”
I freeze. Not with fear, more… clarity.
He’s not teasing. Not asking. Not coaxing. Just… offering.
I turn to face him, heart thundering so hard I’m sure he can hear it. But he’s still. Waiting. His hands hang loosely at his sides, there’s tension in his shoulders that looks like it’s being held tight on a leash.
“You don’t have to rush,” he adds. “I’ll still be here tomorrow. And the day after that. Whenever you’re ready.”
I take a breath that shakes my whole frame. My plushie shifts in my arm as it starts warming up.
I take a tiny step forward. Just enough for our arms to brush, for me to have to tilt my head up just to see his face. Then, slow as honey, I lean my head against his shoulder.
Ghost’s arm comes around, helping guide me further into him, so I’m lying a bit on his chest. He’s careful about it, like I might spook. But I don’t.
His scent wraps around me like a blanket pulled straight from the dryer. All smoke and cedar and something just uniquely him . My omega settles for the first time in what feels like years.
“This okay?” he murmurs, his voice low, rumbling against the side of my cheek.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “More than okay.”
The wind tugs at a loose strand of my hair, and he’s the one to reach up and tuck it behind my ear. His gloved knuckles graze my skin with the barest pressure, but it sends goosebumps up the back of my neck. I shiver, not from the cold.
He notices.
“You’re sure?”
I lift my head a little, just enough to meet his eyes. They’re so dark, but soft in a way I’ve never seen on anyone before. Like he’s looking at something precious and terrified of being the one to break it.
And something in me… some wall, some wound, something locked up too tight… just lets go.
“I don’t wanna wait,” I whisper. “Not if you don’t want to.”
Ghost doesn’t move right away. He watches me like he’s waiting for me to change my mind. Like, he doesn’t believe it’s real.
So I make the choice for both of us.
I reach up, and gently curl my fingers in the fabric of his hoodie near his collar, tugging just a little to bring him down. I tilt up.
And then we’re kissing.
Soft.
Slow.
His lips are warm and careful against mine, not pushing or demanding. Just… there. He’s meeting me halfway, letting me lead.
It’s not perfect, but that makes me love it even more. My nose bumps his mask a little. We both breathe too hard. But none of it matters, because it’s real.
It feels like coming home.
It grows in desperation as something in the pit of my stomach hollows and tugs at me for more.
When we part, barely an inch, he rests his forehead against mine. His hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing lightly against my cheek. He still seems tense, like he’s holding something back as wafts of steam flow from our mouths.
“Told you,” he murmurs, voice low and deliciously rough. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I let out a shaky laugh and tuck myself back into his chest, face hot, heart thudding.
“I think I was always ready. Just took a while to see it.”
Ghost’s thumb traces the curve of my cheek, a lazy back-and-forth that feels more like a promise than a feature. We stay like that, tangled in each other and the quiet, the world shrinking down to the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek and the steady drum of his heartbeat.
I shift a little to go for another kiss when-
“Jesus,” he mutters, startled. “Your nose is like ice.”
I let out a guilty little snort and pull back slightly, rubbing the tip of my nose with my sleeve. “Sorry,” I murmur. “Guess I didn’t notice.”
Ghost huffs, half a laugh. “You didn’t notice your nose was tryin’ to freeze off your own face?”
I grin up at him, lips still pink and swollen from the kiss. “Was kinda distracted.”
He gives me a look that’s half fond, half exasperated, then shifts his arm so it wraps around me more securely.
“Alright, c’mon, frostbite’s not romantic.” His voice is gruff, but there’s a smile behind it now, I can hear it.
“Speak for yourself,” I tease, letting him guide me to the ladder. “I think nearly losin’ a nose is a real bonding experience.”
“You’re a menace,” he says flatly, but the way his hand slips down to my lower back betrays how soft he is about it. The words might be sharp, but the way he touches me says something else entirely. Something gentle. Protective.
I make it down the ladder, Ghost following quickly behind me.
“Thanks for waitin’ on me,” I say softly.
His eyes meet mine, steady and sure behind his mask, that’s now pulled back down.
“Always will.”
We step inside together, the warmth of the barrack wrapping around us. I start to head for my room, the siren call of sleep starting to sing out to me.
Before I can make it far, a firm hand catches my arm.
“Where do you think you’re goin?” Ghost asks, voice low.
I blink up at him, head tilting. “Back to bed,” I whisper, confused but not frightened.
He doesn’t let go. “Far as I’m concerned, that’s no longer your bed.”
Heat blooms across my cheeks before I can stop it. My hand tightens around my plushie as my brain scrambles to catch up with my heart.
“Unless that’s too much for you right now,” he adds, a bit softer. No pressure, just an open door.
I hesitate for only a second, searching my instincts, and then I shake my head. “Ain’t too much,” I murmur, stepping closer to him. “Not if it’s you.”
Ghost watches me for a heartbeat longer before his hand slides down to link our fingers together. And just like that, he turns, guiding me down the hall. Not to his room.
To ours.
The room is dark when we step in, lit only by the soft hallway light spilling through the open door. It smells like him, while also carrying the subtle sharpness of worn leather and gun oil.
I hover in the doorway for a second, blinking as my eyes adjust. My omega stirs a little, just a little, at how bare the room is. It’s just the basics, a neatly made bed, a dresser, and a desk. There’s a duffel tucked in the corner as well, but… no photos. Or signs of comfort or softness. No signs anyone ever truly lived in here.
I chew my bottom lip, arms tightening around my plushie again. My feet shift where I stand. I don’t know what I expected, but it almost feels like I’m stepping into someone else’s quiet.
Ghost watches me the same way I’m sure he reads enemy movement on the battlefield.
“Ain’t much to look at,” he says, voice calm. “Never really saw the point in makin’ it cozy.”
I nod slowly, but my heart aches from him. I step inside, a bit hesitant.
“Figure, you can fix it up, nest it out to your heart's desire. Got yourself a clean slate. But, we can sort that out later.”
I blink at him.
“Right now,” he continues, nodding toward the bed, “think we both need to get some sleep.”
He moves toward the bed and sits first, tugging off his boots in a practiced, methodical pattern. I move over toward his desk, setting down my plushie before moving to take off the jacket and hang it on the back of his chair. I’m just in my pjs and boots, so I work on taking those off next, one after the other, before setting them in front of the chair.
Behind me, I hear the creak of the mattress, then the soft rustling of blankets. When I turn, he’s already in bed, one arm propping him up, the other lifting the blanket in silent invitation.
“Y-you’re sure?” I ask, the words trembling more than I want them to.
His eyes meet mine, steady and unreadable behind the mask. “I am if you are,” he responds flatly. “We’re both tired, so please just get in.”
My gaze flicks over his mask. It’s still on, and I can’t help the quick flash of amusement that crosses my mind. Big, bad Ghost, fully geared down except for the mask. It’s charming, and something I know very few will get the honor of seeing.
I approach slowly, like getting too close might spook both of us. I place my phone on the nightstand and glance at him again. He hasn’t moved, still holding the blanket up with that wordless patience of his. I hesitate one last second before turning my back to the bed and sitting carefully at the edge, muscles tense.
There’s a grunt from behind me on the bed.
Before I can react to it, the blanket is dropped onto me, and a hand wraps around my middle. I get pulled across the bed, onto his chest with a “whump!”
My breath catches. My body locks.
Holy fuck. Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck.
I’m against his chest.
“Not gonna hurt ya,” he grumbles.
I can’t even respond. My heart has completely stopped. My mind is sprinting while my body freezes, caught between instinct and disbelief.
My omega is rejoicing. Practically vibrating with joy and need. Every nerve ending sings at the contact, screaming,
FINALLY!
I feel like I’m breaking apart, equal parts terrified and… ecstatic. It’s too much. Too good. Too close.
And yet… I start to relax.
It’s subtle, at first. A breath deeper than the last. The slow melt of muscle tension. He feels it too, his grip reading just slightly. It shifts to something more cradling than holding now. Protective. Gentle.
I have no idea how I’m supposed to sleep like this. My body’s buzzing like I just ran five miles, while my heart tries to process everything that’s happening.
The lamp is still on, so clearly we’re not going to spend the whole night in this position. I’m just not sure whether or not I like that idea. I can hardly grasp the emotions I’m experiencing anymore, it all feels so new.
We stay like that for a while, long enough for the tension to dull. Then, something comes over me. A little surge of courage. Of want.
I wriggle gently in his arms, enough to reach for the lamp. He releases me instantly, wordlessly, just enough for me to lean and flick it off. Darkness swallows the room in a soft hush.
When I return to the bed, I don’t hesitate this time.
I turn, slowly, and face him. His outline is a silhouette in the dark, but its familiar and… safe. I don’t give myself time to think.
I press forward, burying myself in his chest.
His breath hitches.
For the first time, he’s the one surprised. I can feel it in the sudden increase in his heartbeat. The way his body stiffens before relaxing again. His arm comes back around me a moment later, slower this time. More intentional.
I don’t look at him. I can’t . I don’t want to know what expression I might find. Instead, I focus on how he smells and how it makes me feel.
His scent is everywhere. Around me. One me. In my lungs, damn near in my blood. My hands stay curled between our chests, small and tentative. His arm settles around me, strong and protective.
And for the first time in… I don’t know how long, I feel safe. Just so unbelievably safe.
There’s a pull in my chest, my instincts clawing at my throat, making me swallow hard. I decide to let go, give the reins fully over to my omega. Ghost’s arm settles just as I tense the unused muscle in my throat. There’s a bit of a stutter before it catches.
A soft, trembling purr rises up, vibrating low in my chest, and the moment it fills the space between us, everything else falls away.
He tenses again, just slightly, a flicker of uncertainty in the way his body locks up. For a heartbeat, I consider looking up, gauging his expression. But instead, I hold steady, choosing trust. I press in a little closer, my purr deepening, letting the low thrum do the talking my words can’t.
Slowly, almost cautiously, he relaxes again.
I take my chance.
Still purring, still wrapped in his warmth, I tilt my head up slightly. My eyes trace the line of his jaw first. It’s covered by the mask, but I can still see it in my mind’s eye. I let myself follow that line upward until I meet his eyes.
Soft. Brown. Unflinching.
Something cracks open in me at the sight.
There’s something so vulnerable there, in a way that disarms every protective instinct I have. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. The emotion that fills me in its place is quieter. Heavier. A little too close to the one I’m not ready to name.
There’s no walls between us here in the dark. Just an air of something waiting.
I take that as permission. As the silent ‘yes’ it is.
My head lowers slightly, but not to his chest like before. I pause just beneath his chin, my lips close enough to brush his jaw.
Then, heart pounding, I tilt up on instinct and press the softest kiss just under his cheekbone. Not demanding. Not claiming. Just a moment of sincerity.
He stills.
Then exhales. It’s low and shaky, like he’s fighting to hold onto himself.
“Sleep,” he murmurs.
My chest clenches, something in me fluttering at the warmth in that one word. I drop my head fully back down now and close my eyes.
As usual, my mind wanders over the day’s events, but the warmth and safety of Ghost’s chest have me getting drowsy quickly. As my breathing matches his, I’m slowly lulled asleep.
We move throughout the night, unconsciously shifting toward each other, but never fully separating. I don’t remember dreaming. Just warmth. Pressure. His arm. The occasional flicker of his scent wafting over us.
Then the alarm cuts through the stillness.
I blink awake, reaching over to cut off the alarm.
He’s gone.
The realization lands with a hollow thud in my chest. The warmth beside me has cooled. His pillow’s indented. But he’s nowhere in sight.
Disappointment stirs low in my belly, but I push it aside with a sigh. His scent still lingers over me. In my hair, on my clothes. I bury my face in the pillow for a moment, inhale deeply, and for a second… I debate not showering.
But the moment I catch a whiff of what’s happening under my arms, reality wins.
I hop into his shower. His shampoo, his body wash, it’s all him. I use them generously, not to erase the smell of him, but to refresh it. To take a piece with me.
Once I’m done, skin warm and damp, I towel off and slip back into my pajamas. I feel lighter somehow, still tethered to the feelings from last night.
I open the door, expecting an empty hallway.
Instead, I find Bee.
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