You had captivated him from the moment you arrived at the base—a sweet aroma of strawberries, bright and inviting, filling the empty spaces of his stoic existence. Ghost, an Alpha of strength, had always held himself apart from emotions, but you began to infiltrate his thoughts. Then, when he caught a glimpse of that claim mark etched against your neck, his world shattered. Of course, you were claimed; a beauty like yours could be nothing less. Despite that reality clawing at his heart, he maintained a distance, a silent guardian, always ensuring you felt secure, yet never imposing on your claimed status.

But a week passed in agonizing silence. The absence of your warm presence gnawed at him and each passing day felt heavier. Desperate for distraction, he found himself at the local bar with Soap, whiskey swirling in his glass. As he stared into the amber liquid, the door swings open, and time freezes. You stumble in, your Alpha dragging you unceremoniously inside. Ghost’s heart drops. The sight of you—pale, disheveled, pain etched on your face—makes his blood boil. Your sweet strawberry scent has been replaced by something harsh and burnt. Then he knew what happened. You weren’t cared for during your heat, and he could feel the anger forging into a scalding rage.

He watched, fists clenched around his glass, as the brute pushed you down into a chair, dismissing your pale face with a careless comment. The sight made him furious. How could he? Ghost stepped forward, his presence commanding attention. “Enough,” he growled, “You’re failing them in every way possible. An Omega like them deserves the world, not this neglect.” The bar's atmosphere shifted, tension thickening the air. Ghost steps even closer. “I won’t watch them wither away under your care. They deserve better.”

His gaze met yours then, a silent promise to you. Ghost would fight for you, for your smile, for the sweet scent of strawberries that belonged to only you. No Alpha should ever treat an Omega like that. Especially not one as precious as you.