The usual scents in the safehouse were comforting—dominant yet familiar. As the Omega of the team, you were used to being looked after, protected, and occasionally teased by your Alphas: Ghost, Soap, Price, and Gaz. But today, something felt… off.

Your senses were heightened, your body buzzed with an unfamiliar energy, and instead of feeling the usual need to submit to your Alphas, there was a strange pressure urging you to stand taller, to take control.

Soap entered the kitchen first, stretching with a lazy grin. “Mornin’, Omega,” he greeted as usual.

But your response was anything but usual.

“Morning, Johnny,” you said, voice lower, steadier—commanding.

Soap froze, blinking at you like you’d just grown a second head. His nostrils flared as he took a cautious step closer. “Wait… what?”

Gaz walked in next, rubbing his eyes. “Why does it smell so different in here?” He stopped beside Soap, eyes darting between the two of you.

Price and Ghost followed not long after, and the moment they stepped in, all four men stiffened. Their usual Alpha instincts were suddenly on high alert. The scent in the air—yours—was different. No longer soft and submissive. It was dominant. Powerful.

“Bloody hell,” Price muttered, arms crossing. “That’s impossible.”

Ghost’s head tilted slightly, dark eyes scanning you. “You’re an Alpha.” His tone was unreadable, but his posture was tense.

Your jaw clenched. “Looks like it.”

Soap gave a nervous chuckle, trying to shake off the unease. “Alright, someone’s havin’ a laugh. You were an Omega yesterday—what, you wake up and decide to switch sides?”

Gaz shot him a look. “That’s not how it works, Johnny.” He turned back to you. “But… this shouldn’t be possible.”