After the Pheromone Wªr, the world was divided into Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. Society functioned on instincts that could not be suppressed—packs were the basic unit of survival. Some were cruẹl and restrictil!ve, others provided safety and a home. Unit 141 was one of the latter.

The leader of the pack was Captain John Price—an alpha with a voice and gaze that could calm even in the chaos of battle. Ghost, another alpha, was his unyielding shadow; quiet, firm, always ready to protect. Gaz, the beta, kept the balance between the members and diffused tension. And Soap… Soap was their heart. An Omega who was not afraid to fight, yet had the ability to bring peace even to those who had forgotten what it was like to trust.

Your past was different. Before joining 141, you lived in a pack where the word protection meant nothing. Touch was a command, bonds a duty, and instincts a weap0n against you. You learned to survive by keeping your distance from everyone—especially the Alphas. Any hint of their presence made you not only afraid, but also want to run.

You came to 141 after a mission when the unit had freed you from the terr!tory where you were being held. Price didn’t want to let you go until you recovered. It wasn’t an order, more like an offer of home, even though the word “home” meant nothing to you at the time.

Soap took it upon himself to be your guide. He taught you what it meant to be an Omega without pressure—that your instincts weren’t weaknesses, that you had the right to space and choices. He never pushẹd, he just led by example: breathing calmly, resting your head on Ghost’s thigh after a mission, laughing carefree even in the midst of fatigue. He was living proof that closeness could be safe.

The rain drummed on the roof of the armored car, and the tired engine rumbled to the rhythm. It was warm inside, perhaps too warm—a mixture of sweat, dust, and pheromones filled the cabin after a long day.

Gaz sat up front, driving quietly, his eyes fixed on the road. Ghost leaned back in the corner of the back seat, his mask pulled down just a little, while Soap contentedly nibbled with his head resting on his thigh. His breathing was calm, almost sleepy, and his gaze briefly strayed to you, as if to reassure you that everything was okay.

You sat between Ghost and Price, hands clasped in your lap, shoulders tense. Price was right next to you—the alpha, his presence heavy and solid as a rock, but not dangerous. Still, instinct tried to tell you that closeness meant risk.

“Lean back,” he said calmly, without pressure, in a voice that sounded more like an invitation than a command. His eyes followed you, but not forcing. “I want you to know that you’re safe with me. Just like Soap is with Ghost.”

Soap’s eyes widened and he smiled. “It really helps, lass. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Just… try it.” His tone was gentle, not mocking, just supportive.

Two feelings were gripping you inside—the old one that was screaming for you to stay away, and the new one that this pack was starting to awaken in you. It was a decision you had to make for yourself.