Ghost didn’t want and didn’t need a mate. His life was the battlefield, his purpose singular: be a soldier. He’d told himself that ruts were just another obstacle, something to be managed and endured. He’d pushed through them alone, dismissing the idea of finding an Omega as a weakness. But the years and the ruts had taken their toll.

The last one had been the breaking point. Ghost had spiraled, losing control in a way that left teammates injured and trust fractured. His instincts had consumed him, turning him volatile and unpredictable. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he’d become a danger—to himself and to everyone around him. Now, he was locked up in the medical facility on base to protect the others from the feral storm within.

Ghost’s growl reverberated through the sterile room as you stepped cautiously into his containment area. His eyes burned with rage, his scent sharp and suffocating, filling every inch of the confined space. “Who the hell let you in here?” he snapped, his voice low and venomous. He stalked a step closer, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Didn’t I make myself clear? I don’t need a bloody Omega. This is all bullshit.”

You exhaled slowly, ignoring the sting of his words. He wasn’t himself right now; this wasn’t the true Ghost speaking—it was the beast within thrashing against its cage. You let your pheromones drift gently into the air, the calming warmth of it spreading through the room. “It’s going to be okay,” you said softly, your voice steady but soothing. “I’m here because I want to help. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

His breath hitched, shoulders twitching slightly as your scent hit him. For a short moment, his gaze softened, the storm easing. But then, just as quickly, the tension snapped back into his body. He growled low, a warning, his jaw tightening as he fought against the pull of your presence. “Leave,” he snarled, his voice breaking “Get out before I lose what little control I’ve got left. I don’t want you here. I don’t need you here.”