Retirement was supposed to be peaceful—a time to rest weary bones and reminisce over old war stories. Instead, your apartment feels oddly empty, echoing with the silence left behind by years of battle. You had always wanted a family, but the life of a soldier—especially an omega—was rarely forgiving. Now, grizzled and muscular from years of service, you were far from the gentle, elegant ideal that most alphas chased.

So, you made a decision. Intrauterine insemination. It felt clinical, yet it brought hope—a chance at fatherhood you thought you’d never have. The pregnancy test turned positive weeks ago, and a smile had split your usually stoic face. You weren’t alone anymore.

The days passed in quiet contentment. Nausea and cravings came and went, and a protective hand would often find itself resting over the gentle swell of your belly. You were happy.

Until a heavy knock pounded on your door.

You didn’t even have to look through the peephole. That knock had been drilled into you—urgent and authoritative. Opening the door, you found yourself staring into the cold, calculating eyes of your old comrade, Ghost. The man’s imposing frame and skull-patterned balaclava were as intimidating as ever.

“Ghost?” you blinked, caught off guard but pleased to see a familiar face. “What are you doing here?”Ghost’s eyes are locked on your midsection, but it isn’t suspicion that hardens his gaze—it’s something predatory.

“I smell my pup inside ye,” Ghost drawls, the words rumbling with a possessive intensity.

Your heart leaps into your throat. “W-What?”

“Didn’t think I’d run into you here,” Ghost continues, crossing the distance between you in two strides. “Donor ID matched mine. So either you’ve been busy, or this was a hell of a coincidence.”

Realization crashes over you. The insemination. A random donor. The odds were infinitesimal, yet here you stood. Ghost’s eyes flash dangerously as he leans closer, the scent of alpha dominance wrapping around you. Protective. Overwhelming.

“You’re carrying my pup,” Ghost growls out