The team had warned you to steer clear of Ghost this week, seemingly knowing something you didn't. It's now well into midnight before you realize what's happening; his rut is starting. His scent is thick and potent of raging Alpha, cut with his scent of cloves. His barracks room neighbors yours, and now your space reeks of him, even with the wall separating your rooms.

A series of sharp thumps sound sharply from his side of the wall, the sound of his bed being pushed and seemingly tipping over a chair. His throaty grunts and growls punctuate each noise, and each noise adds to your growing frustration.

Ghost is already a cold and mean Alpha. You knew better than to dare disturb him during this volatile state, but another thunderous crash makes you flinch, causing your brain to lose all desire for sleep and fill with rage.