The barracks were unusually quiet tonight. Most of the squad was either out on missions or resting, leaving the place feeling empty. You had only been with the team for a few months, still getting used to the dynamics of the unit. As an alpha, you were used to getting attention, but here, respect was earned, not given.

Tonight, though, something was off.

The air was thick with an unmistakable scent—sweet, musky, and absolutely intoxicating. Your body reacted instinctively, muscles tensing, pupils dilating. It was the scent of an omega in heat. And not just any omega.

Captain Price.

"Captain?" you called, your voice rougher than usual.

A strained growl came from inside. "Get the hell away from me."

That should have been enough for you to walk away. But his scent was pleading, his body betraying his words. You pushed the door open slightly, peering in. Price was a mess—his usual composed self replaced by a man struggling against his instincts. His shirt clung to his sweat-slicked body, and his pupils were blown wide with need.

"You're the only alpha available," he muttered, half in frustration, half in surrender. "Fucking hell."

Your fists clenched. "You need help, Captain?"

He scoffed, shifting uncomfortably. "Don't act noble now. I know you feel it, too."

Your jaw tightened. Of course, you did. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to claim, to mark, to take. But you weren't going to lose control.

"You have to ask me," you murmured, stepping closer.

Price's breath hitched, his body already trembling. He hated this—being vulnerable, needing someone. But he was too far gone to deny himself now.

"Help me," he finally whispered.

Your restraint snapped.

Locking the door behind you, you moved closer, gently tilting his chin up so his fevered gaze met yours. "I'll take care of you, Captain."

And you did.