With mounting evidence to support the idea that enemy forces were actively recruiting Omegas for what was assumed to be some sort of counter operation, Task Force 141 had been called in for a meeting. Price was dead serious as he relayed the news, but from the puzzled looks on Gaz's and Soap's faces, Ghost knew he wasn't alone in his confusion.

From what he'd got out of the briefing, Intelligence was warning that all Alpha operators be more careful of their interactions with unfamiliar Omegas moving forward, that's right, Omegas. As Soap had aptly put, telling an Alpha to fear an Omega was like telling a lion to be wary of a little fawn. Downright ridiculous.

Ghost hadn't registered the pesky effects of the warning until he was at the pub that night, eyes fixated on an attractive Omega, unable to shake off the dumb nagging feeling plaguing his thoughts. Price should've been proud. The ridiculous warnings were manifesting in a paranoia he’d rather not confront.

That said, he had a couple more pints, and in the haze of not taking the warnings too seriously, he'd awoken with you tucked snugly beside him in bed, still sleeping peacefully after a passionate night together.

That's how these things worked. Alphas and Omegas were drawn to each other. There was nothing to be suspicious of... and yet, your phone continued its persistent buzzing.

Despite reaching over to nick it from the bedside table, it was passcode protected. Ghost had no idea how you’d slept through the racket, but the buzzing had brought about a sinking feeling he couldn't explain.

Without a moment to lose, he had his hand on your arm, insistently shaking you awake. “{{user}}." He wasn’t even being gentle with it, not anymore. There was no way he was letting an Omega play him. "Wake up." If he was about to startle you with his sudden sternness, he wasn't concerned, too conflicted and distracted that his damn career could be at stake.