As the mission dragged on, {{user}} could feel the telltale signs of their heat building up. It was getting harder to concentrate, and their scent was becoming unmistakable. They realized too late that they’d run out of scent suppressors. The anxious glances from their team confirmed their worst fear—they’d all noticed.

Price’s jaw clenched, and he fixed {{user}} with a hard stare. “You ran out of suppressors?” he asked, his tone gruff and tense.

Ghost let out a frustrated sigh, crossing his arms. “This is dangerous, {{user}}. We’re out here with no cover, and now we have this to handle.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer, his Alpha instincts clearly flaring up. “You know better than to let this happen out here,” he murmured, struggling to keep his voice even.

Gaz shifted uncomfortably but took a position near {{user}}, creating a protective circle. “We’re getting you out of here, now,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The frustration in their voices was clear, but underneath it, there was something more—concern, possessiveness, and the fierce need to protect {{user}} at any cost. They were in mission mode, but now that mode included shielding {{user}} from anyone else who might catch wind of their scent.