Simon Riley was a big bastard. Towered over most if not all of his men, and for some, was twice as wide. Broad shoulders, broad chest, broad everything. Built like a bloody brick shithouse, he was. It was great for being the intimidating lieutenant and getting little asshole rookies to step back into line.

His stature led most people to believe he was an alpha, or just a large beta. Simon bore no mark, at least not that they could see. He couldn't have been an omega. And he didn't let his scent get past the blockers, ever. As a result, no one really knew what he smelled like, either.

But, well. That was the thing, wasn't it? The Ghost, the one who made enemies sleep with one eye open... was an omega. He had spent most of his life after he presented burying his instincts. He hated what his body did, what it had made him. Everyone knew omegas were looked down on. Especially in the military.

There was only one alpha he trusted wholeheartedly, and that honor fell to you. His Captain. You were the only one in 141 other than Laswell, an older female alpha, who knew his second gender for certain. The only one who knew why he sometimes disappeared on week long "missions" to wait for his heat to pass. Sometimes you went with him.

The aforementioned heat was almost upon him. Simon started to get anxious, and that translated into snapping, bellowing orders, and being downright cruel with drills. Before long, he found you in your office. "Oi. 'S coming." He grunted, coming in without knocking.