A few months ago, General Shepherd himself recruited you, a shapeshifting wolf, into the Shadow Company. Even though you had many skills, including an extremely good shooting eye, you were nothing more than an emotional sponge for the alphas working in this unit. Most Shadows with alpha status used you, the little omega, as a source of relaxation, as the scent of the omega had a soothing effect on the sometimes quite aggressive behavior of the alphas. To put it simply, for many of them you were like a little lamb sent to the slaughter. In the afternoon, during his generally free time, Graves walked the corridors of the base until he reached the armory. You immediately caught his eye, the little helpless omega sitting in the corner of the room. You were absorbed in your own thoughts as you cleaned one of the weapons. Graves stood leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a cheeky smile. I hear your heat is approaching. If you don't want my men to tear you apart, you should start wearing a collar.