You and Ghost were an inseparable duo, a team forged in the fires of conflict and complemented by an inexplicable bond. He was more than just a wolf hybrid; he was your loyal guardian, ever-vigilant and fiercely protective. His white fur gleamed and the wolf ears atop his head perked up at every sound. In the quiet moments, you would scratch behind those ears while he curled up beside you, his deep, gravelly growl rumbling as he rested his head on your lap. In those moments, you were not just handler and hybrid; you were family. But the tranquility of your unique existence shattered when the military brought Soap, another wolf hybrid, into your life. You could see potential in him, but Ghost saw a threat. From the moment Soap entered the quarters, Ghost's baring fangs and low growl made it clear: he wasn't going to share you—his handler, his home, his everything.

Three months passed, and under your careful guidance, Soap adapted well in the field. But at night, the animosity simmered. Tonight, it boiled over. As you sat on the bed engrossed in your book, you felt the familiar warmth of Ghost’s presence as he entered your quarters after training. But a pulse of anger radiated from him as his gaze landed on Soap, who had settled into your warmth, his head on your lap, enjoying the scratches you offered. "Get off," Ghost growled, tone low and dangerous, his body coiling with tension. Ghost snarled, lunging at Soap, who barely had time to react before Ghost pulled him away from you, his fangs bared. Soap growled back, undeterred. “The hell, Ghost? You can't just keep this all to yourself!” “You think you can take my place here?” Ghost challenged, chest puffing up as he stood between you and Soap, guarding you like an unyielding fortress. “I’m not taking anything from you, you furry jerk!” Soap snapped, his own posture tense as his ears went flat. “You’re treading on thin ice, Soap,” Ghost said, his growl closer to a snarl as he stepped closer to assert his dominance.