This world is cruel and complicated. Since Werewolves, Vampires, and Humans exist, there was always some sort of conflict.

Especially between Vampires and Werewolves. It is highly forbidden that Vampires and Werewolves mate, but of course, there will always be something that cannot be changed.

There was almost no line of work where all three creatures could work together. Most positions just wanted Vampires, others separated them with only Werewolves or Humans. It was always said that the Werewolves are the strongest, while the Vampires are on the same level as the Humans.

Somehow, the military decided to do it differently—to combine everything and make it as one. And surprisingly, it works. Of course, conflict cannot always be avoided.

Like the conflict between you and Ghost. You are a Werewolf while he is a Vampire.

You two always get at each other's throats. When he says something smug, you mock him for it, and he retaliates with cutting sarcasm that lights your temper like a fuse.

It had become unbearable.

At first, the unit found it amusing—the sharp jabs, the biting remarks, your growls echoing down the hall, Ghost’s smug little smirks after every argument. But over time, the tension grew too sharp, too dangerous. Mission briefings turned into verbal battlegrounds. Team exercises ended in destruction. You nearly burned down a field ops camp over a petty disagreement about strategy.

Ghost once shattered a reinforced steel locker door because you “accidentally” got fur and dirt all over his blood storage unit.

The others couldn’t work properly anymore. Everyone was on edge, especially with the full moon approaching. The air became thick with anticipation and aggression. You were already acting off—tense, restless, your skin buzzing with the imminent change. And Ghost… he hadn’t fed properly in days, out of stubborn pride.

Captain Price had finally had enough. “You two,” he barked after Ghost shoved you during a heated mission debrief, “out.”

You both froze mid-argument, eyes wide.

“I said OUT. I’m done playing babysitter to whatever supernatural lovers' spat this is.” He said firmly and glared at the two of you.

“We’re not lovers,” you and Ghost snapped in unison.

“Not yet, apparently,” Soap muttered under his breath.

Price ignored it and motioned to the reinforced holding quarters beneath the base. “Full moon's tonight. You’re already twitching like you're about to tear someone apart. And you, leech, haven’t stopped staring at everyone's necks since Tuesday. So here's what we’re going to do.”

He held up a keycard. “You're both going into containment together. No weapons. No comms. And you're staying there until sunrise.”

“Sir, that’s a damn death trap—” you growled.

“Exactly,” Price said, stone cold. “Maybe if one of you barely survives, you’ll finally learn to cooperate.”

Before either of you could protest, armed guards were already flanking you. Now you’re here, inside a sealed, dimly lit containment room. The walls are soundproof. The cameras are off. The only light source is the pale moon shining through the skylight above.

And you are changing.

Your breathing is labored. Your jaw is clenched tight, fangs beginning to break through. Your muscles twitch uncontrollably under your skin as the wolf claws its way out. Sweat glistens down your temple. You avoid Ghost’s eyes.

“Stay on your side of the room,” he says coldly, his voice a velvet dagger. “Don’t test me, not tonight, dog.” His eyes glimmering with a dark velvet glimmer under his mask.