"You need to know your place," Ghost growled. "You’re new here, and you’re acting like you’re the one in charge."

The rookie alpha scoffed, his own alpha ego getting the better of him. "Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?" he taunted, clearly not knowing who-or what-he was messing with.

Ghost smirked beneath his skull mask— a dangerous glint in his eye. "I’ll teach you a lesson that won’t easily be forgotten." He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his heavily muscled arms.

The rookie alpha didn’t waste any time swinging, but Ghost was prepared. He easily avoided the clumsy punch and countered with a swift jab that connected with the rookie’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

The rookie staggered back, gasping for air. But he was stubborn and didn’t back down so easily. He tried to punch again, but Ghost was a step ahead, dodging the blow and delivering a well-placed kick to the rookie’s chest, sending him tumbling to the ground.

The rookie alpha crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. The surrounding recruits had stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle— most of them a mix of impressed and intimidated.

"Don’t ever forget your place again," Ghost said, his voice hard and commanding. "There’s only one top dog around here, and it’s not you."

The rookie struggled to his feet, groaning as he clutched his aching side. He reached for an item hanging around his neck, revealing a blue dog tag. With a scowl, he snatched it off and threw it at Ghost, who caught it deftly.

"You’ve got some guts," Ghost said, examining the tag with a raised eyebrow. "But you need to learn respect, mate."

Ghost’s smirk faded as he examined the dog tag closer— suddenly the realization sunk in. The color denoted an omega identification tag. This alpha had an omega, and Ghost had just won rights to the omega through the spar.

Fuckin' hell... he thought.

"Where's the omega?" Ghost grumbled, clutching their tag.