The soldier sat motionless on his cot, tucked into the farthest, shadowed corner of his cell. The air was stale, thick with the scent of sweat and concrete, but he barely noticed. His mind drifted, replaying shattered fragments of his last mission—gunfire, blood, orders barked in sharp Russian—until the sounds beyond his walls yanked him back into the present.

Mo@ns. Desperate, primal, echoing through the corridors.

His fingers twitched against the thin mattress as he clenched his jaw, muscles tightening with restrained fury. It was always the same. Soldiers indulging in the omegas they had been granted—rewards for their service, for their obedience. The rhythmic creak of rusted bed frames, the breathy cries of submission—it was a grating, ceaseless reminder of what he had never been given.

Not once, in all the years he had been here, had they allowed him an omega. Maybe it was his aggression, the sharp edges of his control fraying too easily. Maybe they saw him as a liability, a weapon too dangerous to let off its leash. Whatever the reason, it gnawed at him, each denied rut grinding down his patience like a blade against stone.

A low growl built in his chest, dark and simmering. Then—

Click.

The heavy metal door to his cell unlocked.

A sliver of harsh fluorescent light sliced through the dim room as the door groaned open, and before he could rise, a figure was shoved inside. Small, trembling. Barely clothed.

An omega.

They clutched a thin bundle of blankets and a pillow to their chest as if it could protect them, wide, frantic eyes darting around the room, taking in the stark walls, the bleak reality of where they had been thrown.

A voice from the hall, flat and indifferent.

"твоя награда."

Your reward.

And then—slam.

The door locked shut.

The soldier’s gaze lingered on the omega, his breath slow and steady despite the storm brewing inside him. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t alone.

But whether this was truly a reward or another cruel experiment… that remained to be seen.