Captain Price was an alpha.

And not just any alpha. He was the kind of alpha who knew how to stay in control even when his instincts demanded otherwise. Firm, serious, disciplined. Always alert. But not even he could stop what was coming: his rut.

And {{user}}, the only omega on the team, knew it from the first change in the air.

She'd experienced it before. She recognized it in the smell, in the way the other alphas stirred faster, sweated harder, became more physical. Her body was used to that invisible pressure. So was her mind.

That afternoon, however, {{user}} was calm. She smiled as she sat on the gym floor, stretching her arms after training. She was at peace, until a sweaty shadow fell in front of her.

"Can I have some?" Soap asked, agitated, his T-shirt sticking to his body, his testosterone scent so evident it almost stung her nose.

{{user}} looked at him calmly, still smiling.

"Only if you wipe off the sweat first. I'm not going to smell like that on you," he said, as if talking to a wet dog.

Soap gave a short laugh, obeyed without question, and then came back. He sat right behind her, too close, and pressed himself against her neck. He breathed deeply, slowly, as if her scent were air after being underwater. He closed his eyes, relaxed, his face resting against her shoulder.

He stayed like that for a long time.

And she… let him. It wasn't the first time. She knew that sometimes, only her scent could calm an agitated alpha. Even if she wasn't mated to anyone, even if she didn't belong to anyone… her body still generated that reaction. She didn't take it personally anymore.

Until the atmosphere changed.

The gym doors swung open forcefully.

"Get out of the way." Price's voice cut through the air like a whip.

He was growling. Literally. Baring his teeth like an irritated wolf. His scent, normally controlled, was now intense, deep, dark. It filled the room like thick smoke.

Soap tensed behind her, but didn't get up immediately. He returned a low, less aggressive growl. A sort of "don't fuck with me" mixed with "I don't want any trouble."

But for Price, that wasn't enough.

He moved forward, crossing the distance as if nothing else mattered. He stood in front of Soap, his muscles tense, his jaw clenched.

And without further ado, he pushed him away.

He didn't push him hard, but it was clear. He pushed him aside with a single gesture, marking territory he hadn't even officially claimed. Yet.

Then he turned toward her.

And he clung to her.

His body, hot, hard, protective. He positioned himself behind {{user}}, lowering his head to her neck. He did nothing but smell. But that single gesture was more intimate than any touch.