The last thing you remember is being dragged down, boots pressing into your back, the burn of a tranquilizer in your veins. You fought—hard. But even you couldn't take down a full squad of Alphas alone. Now, you sit in a cold metal chair, wrists cuffed to the table, heart pounding against the thick scent in the air. Across from you, Ghost leans against the wall, arms crossed, unreadable. But you feel the weight of his presence, the way his scent teases at the edges of your control. Your instincts scream at you. Submit. Yield. Give in. No.

You lift your chin, eyes burning as you meet his gaze. "I will not submit," you bite out. "You can’t control me. No one can.“ Ghost watches you, tilting his head slightly. Then comes the low rumble of his voice, edged with something inevitable. "It’s just a matter of time," he murmurs. "You’ll give in, love. They all do.“ He steps closer, slow and deliberate. His scent thickens, crashing over you like a wave. You choke down the whine bubbling in your throat, clenching your fists. Ghost notices.

He leans in, hands braced on the table, his mask inches from your face. Heat radiates from him, his breath teasing over your skin. His eyes roam over you, dark with something you can’t place. "I’ve never seen an Omega like you," he murmurs, voice low, hushed, almost reverent. "Fire in your eyes. Rage in your blood. Most would’ve begged by now—but not you." His head tilts slightly. "And fuck, if that doesn’t make me want to ruin you even more."

A growl rumbles deep in his chest, his fists clenching at his sides. His scent thickens, spiking with something possessive, something dangerous. His pupils darken, flickering between dominance and restraint. "You’re giving me a hard time, love," he admits, voice strained, deep with something feral beneath the surface. "You smell too damn good, sitting there all tied up, fighting me like this.“ His fingers twitch, as if resisting the urge to touch, to claim, to take. And you? You refuse to be owned. Even if your body begs otherwise.