Chapter Text
Soap is bored out of his fucking mind, but at least Roach is right there with him. Both of them bustling with energy.
They’re two days into their stakeout and nothing has really happened. There’s been the occasional delivery, people coming and going for work, but nothing suspicious, nothing condemning, nothing that would give them the go-ahead to move.
Soap’s about to start climbing the walls. He’s a foot Soldier, a mover, a fucking explosives expert. He’s not meant to sit on his hands for days on end with nothing to entertain him but the occasional chatter over the comms and the one or two sentences he speaks to Roach when they swap shifts. It’s mind numbing and leaves him feeling itchy, ready to fight. Ready to do something .
At first he tried to entertain himself with joking on the radio, but Price shut that down quick, reminding them that this was a fucking mission and not play time. Like he doesn’t know. The things these people are doing are disgusting, but until he can get his hands on the motherfuckers he feels useless. Pent-up. He’s gonna fuck Simon so hard when this is over, or maybe they’ll switch it up for real.
He glances at his watch, Roach should be coming to get him soon, for their swap over, he just needs to make it to then and maybe he can sleep a few extra hours instead of running himself dumb with boredom.
The door behind him cracks open. “Little early, aren’t you Roach?” He doesn't move from where he’s aimed down, watching his sightlines. But when Roach doesn’t answer he goes to turn, see what’s wrong.
That’s when something cracks across the back of his skull and he’s dropping to the floor. The blow doesn’t knock him out but he’s dizzy with it, black spots pulsing in his vision. He just barely manages to get on the walkie. “Simon-” before there’s a hard kick to his ribs and someone speaks in Russian.
“заткнись к нему!”
He wheezes out a breath over the open comm line unable to suck in enough air to say anything else. Then, the butt of the rifle in the man’s hands bashes across his face and he drops into the darkness.
-
Ghost’s frozen, where he was crouching to trade spots with Keegan. Keegan’s equally as tense, hands flexing on his rifle. In the same movement they shift to the north, staring down their scopes. It could be, not nothing, not nothing with the way Soap’s voice had cracked on the radio, the burst of background noise, then radio silence.
Keegan calls for Soap, and Roach, repeating the call. Nothing. Keegan swears under his breath, and Ghost tries to shove the screaming thing in his chest down. The bond is still there, muted, but there.
“I can feel him- unconscious maybe.” It’s shit reassurance, barely anything. But Keegan nods slightly.
“Watcher, you have any eyes in the north? We may have a situation here.” The whole team is on this channel, they all heard that.
Price’s voice comes over, “we’re shifting position here, trying to get eyes on.”
-
Laswell heard it too. The way Soap’s voice called for Ghost, the spatter of Russian words, the impact of something hard hitting a man in the face. She’s cycling the video feeds trying to find something that lines up with Soap and Roach’s overwatch position.
She can’t get a perfect line of sight but enough to see one of the vehicles they’d identified as the snatcher’s rigs making a direct line to the hospital. Oh God no. Please. “All teams this is watcher. Negative on visual on the north team. Be advised, vehicle identified as Sierra One exiting the area, returning to the hospital.”
The radio is silent in her hand. Price’s voice is the only one to answer her. “Roger that, Watcher. Ghosts, circle around, meet us there. Let’s go check it out.”
Laswell, is 90% sure Soap and Roach are about to be in that fucking hospital. She doesn’t know which one she’s more worried for at this moment.
-
Ghost and Keegan are quick breaking their long rifles down, making their way down from the rooftop they’d been camped out on quickly. Ghost is equal parts grateful and horrified it’s Keegan here with him. On one hand, Keegan has slid right back into his position from Ghost Team. A sharp eyed shadow at Ghost’s side. On the other hand, the people they love, their Mate and imprint, are missing. Very best case scenario is missing. Worst case scenario, Ghost is about to watch Keegan lose his happy ending before he even gets it. And his- Ghost shuts that train of thought down before it leaves the station.
The spare mask in his pocket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. When they get to the northern position, depending on what they find- Ghost is going to hand Keegan that mask, and they’re going to burn this fucking city to the ground.
The bond is still muffled, and almost limp in his mind. They’re fast, sweeping through the terrain as they make their way north. Not fast enough.
Gaz comes over the radio, “Ghosts we have eyes on you, proceed to the location, be advised no movement on our side.” Mirror images, Keegan and Ghost key their radios twice. Affirmative, without saying a word.
Ghost leads the way into the building that he had helped them pick. There’s nothing on the first floor, dusty furniture and emptiness. The second floor- nearly empty. Except for a messed up sleeping back, scuff marks on the floor near it. Scattered remains of an MRE thrown across the room.
Keegan drops to his knees at the sleeping bag, nostrils flaring. Ghost knows the schedule, and Keegan does too. But-
“Roach- nothing but sleep and boredom. He didn’t- he didn’t wake up.”
Ghost twitches, choking on that fun fact and clears the rest of the rooms. Calling over the radio. “Get over here now. Roach was asleep when they hit. He’s gone.”
Keegan’s still kneeling by that sleeping bag. Ghost clears his throat, they have to move. There’s a sharp breath and the Alpha nods, rising to his feet, fingers dragging over the place where Roach slept. They stack up and push up the stairs to the roof access door.
-
Keegan’s fucking terrified of what they’re going to find up there. His instincts are screaming, his Omega is missing. Taken so fucking fast, that Roach didn’t even wake up. Didn’t even get the chance to fight back.
Soap was awake. Awake enough to radio for help. An unbonded Omega was an obvious target to take. A bonded Alpha? If they find Soap on this roof he’ll be injured. And Keegan will have to choose between medic and Alpha.
Riley opens the door and they both explode out onto the roof.
No Soap. Fuck. Thank god.
Riley, makes it to the rifle lying abandoned near the edge, the only sign that Soap was ever here at all, drops to his knees and reaches shaking fingers out to it. Keegan’s heart breaks, even as some part of him is grateful. A horrible guilty gratitude. Soap was taken, too. Which means Riley will be with him. When they go after these fucking animals.
There’s the promise of violence in Riley’s eyes, and Keegan shows him his teeth. Meeting that promise with one of his own. They go together. Either they get them back, or go down as Ghosts.
“Watcher. Rooftops clear, Soap isn’t here. He’s been taken, too. We have two MIA.”
Keegan creeps forward, careful, and crouches in front of Riley. As much as this hurts - and god it hurts- he didn’t bond Roach. Still has just a scrap more clarity than his Lieutenant does. It’s a blessing and a curse. They have no intel on what this group does with bonded Omegas. Or bonded Alphas. But he didn’t find Roach’s body, and he’s clinging to that with all he can.
“They wouldn’t have taken him just to kill him, Riley. We’ll get them back. Together. We get them back. ”
-
Soap has no idea how long he’s been out when he finally comes to.
His eyes blink against the blinding light of the room he’s in, desperately taking in details. He’s in one of the hospital rooms, no windows so he has no idea what floor he could be on. He’s sitting up, in a chair that’s bolted to the center of the floor, hands and legs strapped down, gear gone. He can’t move.
Careening his head he finds a bed off to his right. Roach is there, unconscious and handcuffed to the metal bedframe, he’s been stripped down to his shirt and pants. On his left is a door, probably a bathroom, since the one directly in front of him is the exit. It’s been replaced with a steel door, and an impressive lock.
He’s about to tip his head back when the smell hits him. He chokes on it, gagging. The air is heavy, thick, with the smell of in-heat Omegas and rutted out Alphas. There’s the bitter tang of fear and anger mixing, cloying with it.
It’s an assault on his nose and he feels like Gaz as he sneezes.
Suddenly the bond lights up and he groans in relief, sending as much as he can through it. Safe, for now, confused, a little hurt, but mostly okay. Simon has to be freaking out by now and he just hopes that he makes it out of here before anything too bad can happen. He doesn’t want Simon to feel that.
Groaning from the bed draws his attention and Roach is moving, jerking up when he feels the restraints keeping him pinned.
“Soap,” and he sounds out of it, probably has a head injury too. “What happened?”
“Bastards pushed in while you were sleeping. I didn’t see them, couldn’t stop it.”
He wants to apologize, but before he can there’s heavy footsteps outside the door, and he snaps his gaze to it, watching as the sound of a key in a lock processes before the steel is swinging open. One of the men who knocked him out earlier is there, an Alpha, along with a Beta he doesn’t recognize.
The second Russian, the Beta, has a briefcase. Like some fucked up action movie villain.
Soap watches as he pulls the case open, resting it on a small table by the bed. From his seated position he can’t see what’s inside but after only a few seconds the man pulls back with a syringe. The liquid inside is a sickly orange yellow, and even from here it puts off the tangy scent of chemicals. Chemicals and Omega.
He leaves the case, heading for the bed, and Roach loses it. He kicks out at the Alpha with everything he has, something close to a snarl rising up in his throat.
Soap and Roach are both shouting, throwing threats and Soap’s pulling at the bonds so hard it hurts. “Get your fucking hands off of him ,” he growls, threatening, and the Alpha ignores him.
The Alpha grabs Roach by the back of the neck, scruffing him and Commanding him. Soap doesn’t know what he’s saying, it’s not in English, but Roach whimpers and goes still, eyes shining with tears. The man sneers and says something else that has those tears falling.
Soap feels sick, sick and helpless. That’s Pack being commanded, being scruffed. He’s not dumb, has a good fucking idea of what they’ve got in the syringe and it’s bad bad bad. He shrinks away from the bond, doesn’t want Simon to get any whiff of what’s going on here.
The Beta is stepping forward now, hands sliding over Roach’s shoulder to steady him before plunging the needle into the part of his neck not covered by a hand. He starts to shake as the contents depress, letting out the most heart wrenching noise Soap has heard, including the one Simon made in the kitchen.
Soap’s so fucking angry, angry and helpless and when he gets out of this chair he’s gonna blow up this whole fucking building, the whole fucking country.
The Alpha releases his grip and Roach drops, scrambling on the bed as far away as he can get. Then the Beta is returning to the case and pulling out another syringe. This one is a bright and brilliant blue, almost shining. This one smells like Alpha.
Same as before, the first man goes to grab him by the next, tearing his shirt away from his collar, but then he freezes. He says something, gesturing to the Beta who comes over. A hard nail digs into the imprints of Simon’s teeth on his neck. “You are mated? Yes?”
Soap grits his teeth, fuck these guys they don’t get to know. More Russian and the hand leaves. The two argue and the needle goes away. Soap does not like the looks passing between them.
The Alpha comes back, leans into his space and blows his disgusting breath over Soap’s nose. “No matter. Won’t be soon.” And what the fuck does that mean?
The man pats his face and Soap snarls, going to bite at the offending hand. It earns him a hard smack but nothing else. “See you soon.” The Alpha teases before steering the Beta out the door. Next to him Roach is still shaking, whimpering, and shit, he already smells like pre-heat.
-
Roach’s head is fucking killing him when he finally swims back into consciousness. All he can remember is whispered Russian and then pain.
He goes to rub at his face and finds one of his hands restricted. Opens his eyes and jerks up. The first thing he sees is Soap, tied to a chair in the center of the room. The smells of the hospital hit him then and he flinches, bile rising up in his throat. Fuck.
They talk briefly and he gets a quick rundown of what happened but before he can really say anything, come up with a plan, the door is opening. Roach doesn't take his eyes off the Alpha that enters, hardly processes the Beta at all. As soon as it’s clear the Alpha is going to try and touch him Roach fights, using every dirty move he knows while he’s half sprawled backwards and locked to the bed.
It’s not effective and he gets scruffed. Everything shuts down as he’s forced to submit, tears springing into his eyes. Then he gets Commanded, and even if he can’t understand the words he recognizes the order. His tears spill over as his body stops fighting, against his will.
It’s going to happen again. Again . After he finally got soft and loving, after finally seeing what it could be, he’s going to be hurt again. He finally experienced having a choice and now it’s going to be taken from him in the worst way possible.
Roach wonders if Keegan will still want him after, or if he’ll finally see him for what he is: broken, used, dirty. Ruined .
Because Roach isn’t dumb. He can smell the heats, the ruts, knows that if the team doesn't come get them that he’ll hit one in a day or two and then he’ll be lost to his instinct. That even if the Alpha scruffing him doesn’t rape him right now, in front of Soap, that it’s going to happen eventually.
If they continue to keep him in this room with Soap it’ll kill them both. A bonded Alpha won’t mate him, but his Omega won’t care and it’ll tear them both apart. And once they realize Soap won’t mate him? Roach knows they’ll find another Alpha, one who will.
The Beta enters his peripherals with a syringe that smells like Omega and Roach can’t do anything as the liquid enters his veins.
The change is immediate and he shakes, letting out a pained and terrified whine as his entire body goes hot. His scent spikes hard and then he’s being released, the Alpha’s iron grip lets go and he scrambles away.
Something is happening now with Soap but Roach can’t be fucked to care, his Omega is screaming already, demanding an Alpha. There’s slick already building and he shoves a hand in his mouth to stop the whine, biting down hard and pulling his knees to his chest. Assuming a protective position. Then the Beta and Alpha are leaving.
Soap says something to him and Roach flinches away, can’t- look at him. The bond scent is strong in his nose and it’s ripping him apart. Soap’s the only Alpha who can help him but he won’t , can’t, not with the bond. Keegan isn’t here, his imprint, the only Alpha Roach wants, but he’s not sure how long he can hold onto that connection. They’re not Mates, and depending on what was in that syringe, Roach might not be himself much longer.
-
Next to Gaz is Price. He’s tense, so fucking tense he looks like he might pull a muscle in his neck. This is more than a mission gone wrong, more than just a missing Soap and Roach. This is injured and taken Pack, family. If Laswell is correct and that truck has them, they need to get to them. Need to get into that fucking hospital and get them out before those sick fucks can turn their family into a mindless shell of himself. Before he becomes something they don’t recognize.
Fuck.
Gaz’s gut twists in fear as he waits for Price to give them their next orders. “Meet up at the bug back point. We’ll regroup and replan. Then, we get our fucking men back.”
They’re up, packed, and out of their building in two minutes, hightailing it across uneven terrain with Laswell’s steady guidance.
Gaz is overcome with guilt, it compounds as he walks. Overwatch is his job and now, for a second time, he’s failed to keep his team safe. Now Roach and Soap are in the hands of those sick fucks and he wouldn’t blame Ghost and Keegan at all if they hate him for this, if they yell and scream and tear out Gaz’s throat. He’d deserve it.
-
Price gets to work before Keegan and Ghost make it, laying out what little floor plans they could find for the building and marking entry and exits. There’s a million different ways they can try to do this, but in the end only one of them will get them Soap and Roach back, and they have to figure out which one before it’s too late. He goes back and forth with Laswell while Gaz pulls security, waiting on their final two team members. Price has narrowed down their options considerably by the time they show.
The captain, not the pack leader, lays out the plan.
It's a bit risky, but it’s the best one they’ve got. In the little abandoned gas station they’re going to launch from, the stockroom is their new planning room. Ghost is a shadow in the corner, the only thing he’s said is that Soap isn’t dead. Who knows what else he’s getting from the bond.
Keegan is wearing the fucking mask again, damn near a carbon copy of Ghost. He’s got no idea what’s going on with Roach, there’s no bond to give him anything at all. Good or bad.
Price hopes for all of their sakes that Roach is okay, that Soap stays okay, or nothing will go right.
“Alright. Our plan here, is to make a fucking commotion. Laswell’s trying to get us any assets in the area, but we can’t count on them. We’re gonna let it get dark, in about an hour or so, and then approach from the East. It’s got the most cover and leads us to this door here-” He points at what used to be the emergency room ambulance access.
“As soon as we breach it’s going to be chaos. We’re going to move as a group, one team right after the other. To clear our way to the security room on the ground floor. From there, we locate Soap and Roach, kill all personnel including lab workers. If there are other people being held captive we release them. There will be a team here in three hours to pick them up and get them to actual medical care. Soap and Roach come with us. Keegan and Ghost are the point of the spear, they have the most experience in situations like this. Gaz, you’re with me. We’re cleaning up behind them, watching their back, and scouting for intel. We’re gonna be mics hot once we’re inside, Laswell monitoring.”
Price adjusts his stance. “This is a rescue of our own. I’m not going to demand professionalism out of you. Just stay fucking sharp.” The temperature in the air around Ghost and Keegan is dropping rapidly, like their anger has become such a physical force it’s sucking the heat out of the room. “Gear up.”
-
Ghost can feel Soap, vaguely, in the bond. There had been a burst of feeling down it maybe half an hour ago, anger but no sadness. And now it’s faded out again. Soap’s still there, but keeping his emotions from the bond. Ghost can think of a million reasons why that might be, and all of them make him want to scream and level that building.
-
Riley had handed Keegan a mask, as soon as they started pushing to the rally point. Keegan had taken it like the lifeline it was. Taking everything he’s feeling, and trying to sort through it. His Alpha is pacing the back of his mind, and Keegan’s barely keeping it contained.
Every piece of him that belongs to Roach gets locked up. Boxed away. The feel of Riley’s shoulder against his gives him a focal point. Like traveling back in time. To a briefing room before Vegas.
He lets the rage build. Instead of trying to contain it. For every bit of anger he lets slip into his scent, Riley’s rises to match it. Gaz and Price are both glancing at them occasionally, but Keegan doesn’t spare any of his attention to them. The only thing he wants to hear from Price is the go ahead. So until then. It’s him. And his lieutenant. Their shared fear and pain and anger.
Keegan takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. Opens them hollow, empty. A Ghost. The person he was before coming to the 141.
-
Ghost can smell it, the second Keegan falls into the mask. The softness that’s been tempering his scent vanishing. It’s like standing next to a pile of bloody knives. Ghost lets it pull him in too. This is a rescue mission, possibly the most important one of their lives. And with the two of them deep under their masks, there’s no chance it fails. Either they bring Soap and Roach back, or hope that Price packed a shovel and a compass.
They move as soon as the sun has dipped below the horizon, tearing across the terrain and entering the building where Soap and Roach are waiting for them.
-
Keegan slips into the comms room right on Riley’s heels. The first floor of the hospital had been fairly empty. Five guards, none of them got a word out, every single one dropping to knives or silenced pistol shots. Neither of them had lingered. None of the guards had seen death coming for them, in matching skull masks. Keegan’s slipping further and further into himself. ‘Follow Riley. Find Roach. Find Soap. Follow Riley. Find Roach. Find Soap.’
The security room has every feed focused into a set of rooms that all looked the same, empty of furniture except for beds and chairs loaded with restraints, stains that could be blood or worse in the grainy black and white.
Riley makes a low noise of disgust and starts digging through the papers on the table. “Clear, come up.”
There’s logs, lab reports, and what looks like case studies piled on one side of the table, Keegan moves for those. By the time the rest of the team makes it to the room he’s frozen, putting the pieces together, knuckles white with how tightly he’s holding a file marked ‘Success’.
-
Price patches Laswell into the cameras, to get some sort of overwatch in this shithole. Gaz very slowly and carefully comes up beside Keegan, easing the files out of his hands. Keegan takes two steps back, away from those papers. Sliding back into his position at Ghost’s side. Price hates this. He may not have known Keegan Russ as long as he’s known Simon Riley, but they’re both regressed so hard, he’s terrified they’ll never get them back.
-
“What is it Gaz?” Gaz flinches at Price. I don’t want to tell them this. Don’t make me say it. Even if Keegan had already read most of these, Ghost hadn’t. Saying it outloud won’t make it any more real, but it still feels like it’ll be permanent. Like Gaz is personally condemning Roach, his brother, and Soap, if he puts these words in the air.
Price feels for Gaz in that moment, he does. Whatever is in that folder has Keegan’s hands trembling, and Gaz’s eyes are wide. But they have to know. They have to know what’s happening here, to Soap, to Roach. His kids.
“Sir- they’ve. They’ve successfully combined the suppressant reversals with the compliance gas base. It’s- they’ve figured out how to force a heat…” Gaz trails off, avoiding Keegan’s flat gray eyes and very pointedly does not look at Ghost. “Or a rut. They’re- it’s a breeding program. Sir. The- the people they took, they’re forcing them into their cycles and then- those rooms, on the cameras. They’re the breeding stalls.”
Price, wants to throw up. Oh god, Soap. A bonded Alpha. Forced into a rut without his partner is bad enough, but to lock him in a room with a strange Omega? Soap will do anything to avoid touching that Omega. That Omega. It might be Roach. Taken at the same time, compatible secondary genders. Two Packmates, one bonded, one imprinted. Both forced into-
Price clenches his jaw so hard he can hear the squeak of the crown on his back molar.
-
Ghost twitches, focusing on something that isn’t his own brain, killing, or Keegan for the first time since they’ve left the gas station, “The bond?”
Gaz looks back down at the file in his hands. “Unclear. They’ve got notes here, but nothing concrete.”
Ghost nods, turns away from the table, and collapses.
The bond flares like a supernova, a flood of emotion Simon can’t even begin to figure out, just the pure sense of Johnny. And then it vanishes . It’s like blood loss. The way it drains the heat from his body.
Simon slams into a wall in his own mind, digging for the bond. It’s not- it’s not there. He can’t feel it. He can’t feel Johnny. Simon drags his mask off, gasping desperately for air. “He’s- I can’t feel him. I can’t- Johnny. ”
Simon gags, turning his head just enough to not throw up on his own hands. He’s gone, he's gone, he's gone. Simon’s alone in his own head. Alone.
Someone tries to touch him, he snarls, swiping at them with a knife. Another person grabs him, deflects the knife and slams his shoulders into the wall.
-
Keegan knows. In his bones. When Riley drops like a puppet with it’s strings cut. He’s seen it before. The loss of a bond is always devastating. He can’t- think about the implications. Riley’s throwing up on the floor, Soap is dead, and what that means for Roach.
Blocking the sloppy stab Riley sends his way, Keegan does the most selfish thing he’s ever done. Heads off the bond shock that might literally kill Riley. Grief so strong his brain will tell his body to give up. Weaponizes it.
Killing a bonded Alpha makes sense, in a horrible way, for this place. Roach is an unbonded Omega, too much of a prize to waste. So Keegan takes his best friend, and turns him into a weapon. He’s not the first person to do this to Riley. He might be the last. Hates himself for it. But he needs Riley, needs that feral hate and rage. To save Roach.
Soap. Keegan could have had a brother. Dead and gone. Keegan’s using his loss as a tool. Promises himself, once they find Roach. He’ll send him out with Price. Keegan will bring Soap out. A corner of his brain helpfully informs him which way Scotland is from here. Nearly directly west.
Soap’s grave will face the setting sun.
Keegan blocks another swing from the knife and slams Riley into the wall. Getting in his face. Committing a horrible sin.
-
Simon’s teeth clack together with the force he hits the wall. Keegan is staring at him, “Then avenge him. Get off your ass Riley. Mourn fucking later. Killing those bastards is first. And- Roach. Pack. He’s yours too.” The grief and pain twist, rage flaring. The people who did this- who killed- who took Johnny. They’re going to die. His lips curl, peeling back to show his teeth. Keegan meets that look with a snarl of his own. And shoves his mask back into his hands.
Pulling the mask on tapes Simon’s broken pieces together just enough to acknowledge revenge.
Simon’s dead again. Ghost can avenge Soap. Can save Roach. The feral haze rises in his brain. He lets it.
Ghost moves .
-
Keegan hesitates for a just a second. “Price, with us. I need you to- Roach has said no to Alphas before and they didn’t listen . I can’t let that happen again. Have to protect him. But you have to protect him from me. Don’t let me be the one to hurt him again. If the imprint takes me. Put me down. Sedatives in my bag, or kill me. Save him. From them, and from me.”
-
Price doesn’t even get a chance to try and stop Ghost. And then Keegan breaks his fucking heart even further. “Keegan fuck- go with him. I’m on your six. I won’t let you. We’re getting Roach back. I swear, I won’t let you force him.”
He doesn’t believe in any gods, but prays to them anyways. That Soap didn’t die for nothing. Price- is pretty sure he’d been killed over the bond. Because even a forced rut can’t make a bonded Alpha mate a different Omega. Prays he doesn’t have to kill Keegan to protect Roach. Has a flash of the wrecked training room, the metal lockers torn into pieces by Keegan’s hands. Knows how hard the imprint forces Keegan’s instincts. Hopes he can get the sedatives in him, before he has to choose between Keegan’s life and Roach’s safety.
Keegan’s gone before Price gets out of his own head, hightailing it after Ghost.
“Gaz- with me. Laswell has our back.”
-
Hours later, when the Beta comes back, alone, Soap is very very tense. Roach has been whimpering and crying for at least an hour. He’s well into his heat now, skin flushed red and sweaty, eyes glazed. He bit his lip so hard Soap can smell the blood, can see it on his chin, eyes closed as he presses himself hard against the wall. The imprint and Soap’s bond is probably the only thing keeping him from begging for Soap and he wishes there was something he could do apart from offering the gentle words of reassurance and Pack that he has been.
The scent of the heat has been rising up, but it’s not his Omega, isn’t Simon’s scent and instead of doing anything good it’s making him feel nauseated. His teeth hurt from how hard he’s clenching his jaw. His Alpha is screaming at him, telling him to get the fuck away from this in-heat Omega, but also yelling to help his Pack, protect him from this pain, the repetition and contradiction of it all is bouncing through his skull.
But then the Beta comes back and it’s worse.
The feral grin that the Alpha wore is not present on this Beta’s face, but his eyes are cold and hard. Clinical. There’s no humanity in them. He doesn’t even attempt to speak as he produces a third needle. This one is white, thick like milk. He doesn’t torment or drag it out, just drops the needle into Soap’s skin and sends it into his veins.
Every part of his body lights up, ringing Simon, Simon, Simon , and then, like equalizing pressure everything explodes. He can feel it when Simon is ripped out of his brain, the bond gone, taken from him . Leaving nothing but emptiness, black darkness, nothing but him. Alone. Unbonded. Unmated.
The roar that he releases is painful, loud, full of everything that tears through his synapsis like fire. Burning away every part of him that Simon ever touched. It’s so violent that the Beta startles, pulling back, and Roach opens his eyes, tears shining.
He’s been trying to escape since they left him here, wrists raw and bloody from where he’s been pulling, but now he goes back to it with a renewed fervor. Pulling and tugging and ripping until his shoulders scream from how he’s damn near ripping them out of socket.
The Beta hits him hard . “Quiet now.” And the man’s voice is almost soft. It makes him angrier. But then that needle is back, the one that will send him down down down so far into his own Alpha he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop from betraying Simon, to stop from hurting Roach, to stop himself from doing exactly what they want him to.
“Please,” he begs, “don’t.” And he sounds scared, terrified, defeated . And he is, because Simon had to have felt that, had to have felt Johnny rip out of his brain too and he probably thinks he’s dead. Had probably told the team that these assholes killed him.
The Beta shushes him again, an almost gentle touch to his cheek as he sends the liquid into Soap’s neck.
It hits right away, lighting fire up inside of his bones. His eyes dilate, his nose flares, his breathing picks up. His mind is hazy, but he’s still there, he’s still in his head, he’s still in control. For now.
“Good, good Alpha.” Very deliberately the man pulls out a knife and stalks forward. He presses it to Soap’s neck before undoing his left hand from the bonds. Then he’s stepping back. “Enjoy.” It’s the closest to cruel this man has been, and then he’s leaving.
Soap tears at his restraints, getting his arms free and then his legs. He pushes off the chair and to the door, grabbing the handle and yanking with everything he has. It doesn’t budge and he curses. Then, from behind him, a whine.
He can’t stop himself from turning, eyes focusing in on Roach and where he’s shifted on the bed. Uncurling from his protective position. Every single piece of his brain is telling him to go, the rut is coming on so fast he feels dizzy with it, hands flexing as he imagines soft skin under them, his teeth grind and he can almost feel them sinking into Roach’s neck. He’d have a bond again, wouldn’t be alone, this, this, this Omega could give him that.
He takes a step forward before jerking back, breath hard as he forces it out his nose. “ No, ” he growls, outloud. “ Simon .” He reminds himself, tucking back into the far corner of the room, back away from the door, as far as he can get from where Roach is now scenting the air, heat smell spiking as his Omega processes an unbonded and in-rut Alpha.
“ No. ” He repeats it, again. Then Simon’s name, grounding himself in it even as everything in him screams for him to get up, to mount, to claim. He won’t, he won’t fucking do it. Won’t betray Simon, won’t hurt Roach. They’ll have to actually kill him, because he won’t.
-
Roach is aware that there’s someone else in the room with the Alpha and him. The bonded Alpha who keeps talking to him in a soft and comforting tone, a Pack Alpha who is both helping and hurting with his presence. The person who enters isn’t an Alpha though, so Roach keeps his eyes shut and his face buried in his knees. Barely aware of anything apart from the pain tearing through him.
He’s gone through heats alone before but he’s never been trapped with an Alpha scent he can’t have and it’s killing him. It’s so bad he can’t even think to touch himself, all he can do is sit on the bed, desperate and hard and leaking, and hope his Alpha shows. His Alpha , and Roach is aware that he’s not mated, not bonded, but he knows there’s an Alpha out there somewhere. One that he wants to help him, not just one that his Omega will settle for.
Roach can’t think of his name, but the scent of steel and grass tickles his memory and he lets out a little sob.
Then Soap is roaring, screaming, loud and pained and Roach reacts to the Pack bond, lifting his head and trying to find what’s tearing his family apart.
Immediately upon lifting his head he smells it. Unbonded Alpha. Pack or not, there’s an Alpha here who can help him now, and he whines a bit. Mind fuzzy and confused and lost, sinking deeper into his instincts. He watches a Beta do something else, a needle in skin, and then a fresh wave of scent rises up and sharpens like a knife.
An Alpha in rut , right in front of him.
The Alpha moves away from him, heading for the door and something inside Roach snaps, Omega screaming. He’s going to be left alone when there’s a perfectly good Alpha not five feet away? No.
He pulls at the handcuffs, whining loud and needy right at the Alpha. The man turns, eyes wild and takes two steps towards him before- before saying no? Roach whines again, begging out loud. The Alpha snarls, snapping a name that Roach knows but couldn’t tell anyone why. Then the Alpha is moving as far away as he can and tucking himself into the corner of the room. Roach throws his scent even harder, ripping at his bindings and smelling fresh blood as the metal cuts into his wrists.
Another Alpha rejection during a heat, and Roach can feel himself losing the fight with his Omega. Can feel it dragging him down.
For a very long time he whimpers and cries and begs, trying to get closer but unable to get off the bed. The Alpha flinches at every sound he makes, scent spiking a few times, but remains seated on the floor. Roach is very slowly losing his mind, every second that passes while he’s tormented by the scent of available Alpha hits him with stinging rejection. It compounds over and over, ready to tear his mind in two, until something sounds from the hallway.
The scent of another Omega rolls in and Roach snarls, sound tearing apart his throat. There’s competition for the Alpha now and Roach will fight for his right to be claimed.
And then, right on the heels of the Omega is a different scent, a different Alpha. Carrying with him the smell of a field and spent rounds from a magazine. A scent Roach knows almost as well as his own.
His Alpha .
Roach pulls even harder, eyes darting to the door as he lets out a pathetic sound, worse than anything he’s ever heard himself make before, and then the door is flying open.
-
The first living person Ghost sees dies fucking bloody. Ghost hits the man from behind, sinking teeth in the back of the man's neck, through his mask , the man screams, and Ghost grabs his mouth with a gloved hand, hooking fingers into the lower jaw and pulling until an awful crack echoes off the tile. Ghost drops him, not dead, but Keegan steps up and coldly fires one round into the head and ends it.
They move, Ghost hits them first, always biting, sometimes using his knives, and everytime he looks, Keegan is there, fatal blows to finish the job. Ghost can smell him. The knife sharp pain and anger feeding into his own. Every person Ghost kills drives them both higher, taking away more and more of independent thought, until Ghost is just a thing. A knife with a bloody blade, and Keegan’s hand guiding him.
After climbing the stairs they round a corner into a new hallway, the scent of pain and suffering staggering Ghost for a second before he grabs it, feeds it to the rage and makes it his own. There’s a Beta standing at what was once a nurses station, briefcase by his feet, writing something down. Ghost takes him down with a leg sweep, slams the back of his head into the ground, hand wrapped around the man's eyes and forehead, and snarls.
“Where?” Keegan's voice is ice.
The man laughs, and spits at them, “too late for little friends. Sweet, sweet Omega, sad and angry Alpha.”
Ghost bites his fucking throat out, teeth sinking in and ripping his head back in one smooth vicious movement. The man gurgles, fear rising off of him like mist. Keegan, reaches down, dragging his fingers through the wound and over the man’s face, giving him a bloody smile. They leave that one to suffer.
Keegan opens a door, Ghost clears the room. Killing four more men as they make their way down the hall. Lab coats soak up blood in their wake. The last four rooms are the worst, heat and rut and pain and despair, clouding Ghost's brain even further.
Keegan directs him. “Threat,” or, “leave it,” like a fucking dog. Ghost snarls at him, it makes his throat ache.
Keegan growls right back at him, and slams the final door open. The fresh scent of heat and rut snap Ghost’s head back, something trying to rise up in his brain. He checks the room, an Omega tied to the bed, whimpering with tears on their face. Not a threat, too familiar. Ghost stares at him. Pack , something deep in his brain tries to tell him. And maybe Simon would have recognized Roach right there in front of him. His brother. His Pack Omega. But Ghost doesn’t. He looks away, scanning the rest of the room.
An Alpha, shoved into the corner of the room, trembling. Threat. Ghost snarls again, menacing, switching the grip on his knife to attack.
-
Keegan’s hand is still on the door when the scents register. Coffee, with so many competing undertones he can’t identify it. Roach, in heat, distress, fear, pain. He’s searching the room when the second scent hits.
Alpha, rut, familiar.
No. No. Keegan stares at Roach, at the bloody wrists and the tears, hearing the terrible whine, seeing the hand reaching out to him. He takes a single stumbling step forward and Riley snarls. Keegan has to look, even if looking away from Roach feels like getting gutted alive.
Soap. Alive. In a corner. Deep in rut, and about to get fucking stabbed by Riley. Keegan’s brain short circuits. Some scrap of training rises up. He uses the last of the air in his lungs to cue the mic. “Price. Help. ”
Soap is alive, and the bond is broken. Roach is in heat, and asking for him. Riley’s feral, and a threat to everyone in the room. Keegan can’t. Can’t help any of them. Can’t help himself. Laswell is shouting in his ear, and there’s footsteps coming up the hall. Numb fingers go to his med bag, detaching it in the doorway.
Forcing his eyes to stay on Riley. If he looks at Ro- the other Omega, he’s going to make the worst mistake of his life. If he looks at Soap, the Alpha in rut near his in-heat imprinted Omega, he’s going to make Riley’s grief real. They have to leave. They have to get out of the way. And let Price and Gaz do what neither of them can.
Keegan launches himself at Riley, a feral noise coming out of his own mouth. Throwing his scent like a nuclear bomb. Get out. Leave. Get out.
Riley bites him, and Keegan drops his elbow into his ribs for it. Gets stabbed in return. Keegan grabs the wrist closest to him and twists. Trying to break fragile bone. Riley headbutts him so hard Keegan gasps in pain. And loses himself in the scents.
They fight like wild dogs, snapping and snarling. Throwing each other around the room. It’s a stroke of luck they make it out of the door and across the hall. Someone throws a door open and they fly through it.
There’s a voice in his ear, saying his name. Calling out to him. Keegan drives his knee into Riley’s stomach, missing the knife in the Lieutenant’s hand. The knife that ends up buried in his thigh.
“Keegan. Stop.” Keegan freezes. That’s Laswell. And he may not be fully in the Pack but her voice is like the hand of god grabbing him.
Riley’s gone limp and unresponsive under him. What?
-
Soap hears the gunfire approaching. As ‘silenced’ as suppressors make guns, they still make sound. A sound Soap is intimately familiar with. The presence of that sound makes something itch at the back of his brain, but he’s been reduced to nothing but basic thoughts.
Ignore the Omega on the bed. Remember your Mate. Simon. Stay in the corner. Protect Pack. Ignore the Omega on the bed. Remember your Mate- your Mate- Johnny jerks his head backwards against the wall. Can’t remember the name, choking on red haze, breed, claim, take- Simon . Simon his name is Simon.
Stay in the corner. Protect Pack. Ignore the Omega on the bed- the in heat Omega who smells so good, who smells so wrong. Who makes him want to breed but also cut out his own throat. Remember your Mate. Simon. Protect Pack.
The gunshots get closer, words he thinks might be in English. An Alpha growl, and Omega growl? Omegas don’t growl, only one he’s ever known. Simon? Could it be him? Before he can react, the door is blowing open. And there he is, face hidden behind the mask, scent tainted with anger and hurt and loss, but his . His brain screams, even without the bond, his Omega. Finally.
He goes to rise, to stand, but then Ghost is tearing forward, knife out and Soap is forced to scramble back. He gets a grip on Simon’s wrists and keeps him from biting him through the mask , and it’s then that he knows. Simon doesn’t recognize him, is lost in his head, he’s fighting Ghost .
And Ghost doesn’t love him.
Ghost will kill him.
He could fight, like this Simon is sloppy, acting on hurt instinct rather than skill but Johnny would rather tear out his own beating heart and offer it as a sacrifice at Simon’s feet than ever hurt him. And now, now he understands Keegan so much better, how and why it was so easy for him to give in. To do whatever it took to atone , submitting fully.
And that- that’s an idea… It’s a risk, one that could end him up with a ripped out throat, but… he has to try. Still holding a kicking and flailing Ghost, he tips back his head, submitting.
-
The AlphaThreatAlphaFamiliar is holding his wrist. Ghost tries to break the hold, snaps his teeth. The AlphaDangerKnowHim tips his head back, submits to Ghost. It breaks something new loose in his head. Too many competing instincts and thoughts and emotions, the room reeks of heat and rut and regret. This. AlphaHisGone is in rut and there’s an in-heat Omega here. Ghost whines, confused and lost shaking his head. Someone moves behind him and Ghost snarls.
Keegan hits him like a fucking avalanche, and everything in Ghost goes fight. Knives landing in whatever soft parts he can reach. The floor is hard under his back, and he throws his head back. Getting thrown into the hallway, even as he lands wrong, shoulder popping and burning like fire, Ghost fights.
Swinging a kick at the pair of boots in his peripheral vision. They’re in a new room, Ghost trying to kill the Alpha fighting him.
A new voice filters in. From the headset still in his ear. Familiar and comforting accent.
“Simon. Stop fighting.” Ghost whines, the voice is right and wrong and Commanding him. The Alpha pinning him down also freezes.
“Stop it. Get out of that building. Stop fighting. Leave.” Ghost blinks, the Command taking him.
The Alpha in the room with Ghost is still frozen, head tilted and listening to something. Ghost snarls at him.
“No. Leave him. Get out of that room.” Ghost shoves the Alpha away, rising to his feet. Focused on that voice in his ear. Listening to it as it guides him down the hall, to the stairs, and out of the door. Telling him to wait there. Someone’s coming. Everytime Ghost whines, or tries to move. That Scottish accent is there. Telling him he’s doing well, he just has to wait. He’s getting out of there. Pack is coming.
-
The bond is gone, Simon doesn’t recognize him, but Soap’s Pack Alpha is in the room keeping him from following the Alpha that just attacked his Omega and rolled him out of the room . That should make him do something but someone is there throwing Beta pheramones and Soap is so deep in his fucking rut he doesn’t know what way is up.
The scent of Pack is spilling off the Beta and his Pack Alpha, and, it clears his head, just a little. He recognizes faces, names, not just scents.
“Soap, son are you with me?”
“Price?” And his throat is rut raw, from the growling and screaming that he did. “Where- Simon?” It’s all he can think about.
Price jerks his attention back, forcing eye contact. “I will help him, but for now I need you to stay here. Wait for me to come back. Do you understand?”
Soap shifts, everything in him wants to go to Simon, to his Omega, to finally be free of this longing that his rut is forcing onto him. Won’t go against Pack Alpha, doesn’t want to go against Price. “I’ll stay,” and it comes out broken. Price gives him one last look and then books it out the door, grabbing an abandoned med Pack as he goes.
-
Price is pissed, and tired, and ready to both blow up everything he can and sleep for about ten years. Everything since the moment they stepped into this fucking country has gone to shit. Roach and Soap’s kidnapping, the fucking breeding program. Keegan ripped out his heart telling Price to kill him so he doesn’t assault Roach like Alphas have before.
And Ghost dropping, hit his fucking knees and threw up because Soap was dead .
His kid, his fucking son, blood or not it doesn’t fucking matter.
And then, then The Ghost (capitol T G) came back. The Ghost, who has been fading and being replaced with Simon more and more since he and Johnny met , not even just bonded, but all the way back in Mexico when they worked together for the first time. So, for now, Simon’s gone, too, another kid he’s going to have to bury if things keep getting worse. Which, if he can help it, they will not.
Price runs from the room with all the strength he has in him, doesn’t want to leave Gaz and Soap and Roach but he has to keep Simon from killing Keegan and vice versa. Grabs two doses of Keegan’s emergency knock out stims in case he has to sedate them both and moves.
Price hits his radio, fueled by adrenaline, and calls Laswell. “I need you to get an Alpha on the fucking walkie Kate- I need them to Command Simon to calm the fuck down. And I need it now . I need you to talk to Keegan, keep him distracted while I knock him out.”
“Fuck- okay, it’ll be a minute. I’ve got them on camera, turn left, first door.”
“Don’t have a fucking minute-” Price calls, but knows he can’t influence how fast this goes. He’s tracked Simon and Keegan down, following Laswell’s instructions. They’re grappling on the floor like men possessed.
Just as he goes to do something Laswell’s calling him. “Ready for us?”
“Yes- do it ,”
The first Command rings in his ears, and fuck, did Laswell have to find an Alpha with a Scottish accent?
Ghost flinches, a nervous reedy little whine coming out of his throat. But Price just saw him whine and then try to decapitate Soap with his teeth anyways. Keegan has frozen, too and Price hovers- ready to strike. The second Command and a little bit of the fight bleeds out of Simon, eyes going hazy. Then he goes to attack and the third Command rings down.
Simon rolls, practically sprinting out the door, like Keegan and Price don’t even exist.
Oh fuck. It worked. It worked and Price is about to throw up over it.
“Hit him, Price. The sedative.”
Price sucks in a breath, grabs the syringe and knocks Keegan the fuck out.
-
Gaz is the last in the room, is in the hallway when Keegan and Simon go flying. He kicks open a door for them to roll through and follows Price.
He goes right to Roach who is wailing and crying, scent throwing hard with rejection and pain and fear. Gaz unlocks him, pulling him into a hug and blaring his scent so hard he gets a headache. His scent must knock something inside of Roach loose because he goes still, one last whine escaping from bloody lips before his body goes limp. Roach is catatonic, unseeing. Gaz lifts him onto his shoulders, the carry that Keegan taught them and then looks over.
Soap is just standing there, swaying on his feet, rut scent teetering up high before dropping low. It’s awful. “C’mon Soap, we have to go,” the Alpha doesn't move and Gaz closes his eyes. Take a steadying breath. “Soap- Simon is waiting for you.” That get his attention. “Come with me and you can see him.”
It’s the push the Alpha needs, as he follows Gaz and an unresponsive Roach out the door.
Roach’s Alpha is in the room, right there , and then he, too, is moving away. Putting his hands on another Omega, choosing someone else and Roach shatters into pieces.
The sounds that tear out of him are awful, pained noises of rejection. His Alpha doesn’t want him, isn’t going to help him. Is leaving him here with an Alpha he doesn’t even want but his mind is demanding he submit to. Everything gets lost under it, even when the scent of Pack rolls in. It should be a comfort, a relief, it should be safety .
But the only real safety Roach has ever known just left him, and it’s a third rejection, another Alpha who won’t help him in his heat. It sends him down a drain of instinct and pain. By the time Gaz is ripping him out of his spiral, he’s too weak to even try to grab for the Alpha in the room. He lets go, dropping hard into himself and letting his Omega take the reins.
-
Price gets Keegan off the floor and onto his back, ignoring the blood all over him. He doesn’t know if it’s Keegan’s or Simon’s, can’t care- not now. He meets Gaz and Soap, Roach in the hall. He has no idea what’s going to happen when they step outside and run into Simon but at this point he just needs them out . Laswell has a few Beta contacts in the area already on the way with two separate vans so they can divide the group as best as they can, and he just hopes that he can get them out of this fucking country alive. They can fix everyone later, right now he just needs them breathing.
-
Ghost ends up slumped against the outside wall, sitting on cold asphalt. The voice keeps talking to him. He’s aware enough to feel the pain. His wrist, his shoulder, his ribs. Bruises and cuts. He’s got a knife in his good hand, lost the other one lost in that Alpha’s leg. There’s vans on the way, and people following him out of the building. Ghost just nods. The voice asks about his shoulder, Ghost tries to raise that arm and whines. That whole side of his body screams at him for moving, and his arm won’t fucking move.
Dislocated, the voice tells him. Ghost snarls at it. The door he came out of bangs open, three people walking out, carrying one more. Ghost throws the knife in his hand at them. The voice snaps at him. “No. Not a threat. Do not attack. Go to them.”
Ghost whines, the voice is the only thing keeping him even slightly sane. Fighting his way to his feet, and staggering as his vision flickers. Makes it about ten feet away when the voice tells him to stop. The group shuffles, someone tries to step towards him. Ghost finds a new level to his snarl, it hurts, like swallowing glass. But it stops the person trying to get close to him. The standoff goes on forever. Until vans are pulling up, and the voice tells him to get in one.
Strangers try to help him and Ghost snarls at them too. Climbing into the back and collapsing on the floor, panting for air. Two scents join him, and he turns to see. Beta. Pack. Friend.
A crying Omega, eyes vacant, scent reflecting the pain Ghost feels. Part of him tells him to comfort the other Omega. Part of him hates, hates the Omega, for being in the room with- AlphaBrokenBondMate.
Ghost shows them both his teeth, through the shredded pieces of the mask. The voice tells him to lay still, and a stranger hits him in his good arm with a needle. Ghost is trying to kill the fucker when everything goes dark.
-
Soap hits the fresh air outside and for a second his head is clear, unencumbered by rut or pain or mingling scents of pain. Then something familiar rises up, gunmetal and berries, his Omega. Price steps in front of him before he can move. Voice low.
“No.” Soap freezes, head tilting in confusion. Takes another step forward. His Pack Alpha takes a step back, towards his Omega, blocking him. There’s a snarl from somewhere behind Price and Soap’s instincts scream. “Soap, son- no .”
He shudders, Pack Alpha Command slamming into his brain and stopping him dead in his tracks. Price looks like he’s in pain but doesn’t back down. Shifting his shoulder to reset the weight of the unconscious man above him. Competing instincts hit him, the one that wants to go to his Omega and the one that wants to listen to Pack.
He’s still fighting with himself when the vans show. He gets Commanded by Price to get in the one that his Omega isn’t getting into and he wants to scream. Doesn’t. Climbs inside the van, helps Price get Keegan laying down, and then stares out the window as Price starts bandages wounds. A Beta hands him a pill, tells him it’ll help. He swallows it dry and not five minutes later he’s falling into unconsciousness.
-
Price gets Keegan patched up as best he can on the way to the allied base. He’s got a stab wound in his thigh, another one- shallow but not much better- in his side. There’s bites and bruises and general injuries but he doesn’t worry about those. Keegan’s as stable as he can be by the time they arrive. Two medevac choppers take them home. The training room is already set up for triage and Price gets Keegan into more capable hands, helps Gaz get Soap somewhere safe for when he wakes up. Orders Gaz to get Roach to his room and stand guard, and then takes up a post right next to the exit while Laswell goes to Simon’s side. Watching over him while the medics set his injuries, too.
He wants to collapse, exhausted, but he won’t do that until his team is all awake so he can fix them . Soap and Ghost have a broken bond that has to be acknowledged right away or it’ll kill them both. Keegan’s going to wake any second and Price has to be prepared for what the imprint is going to make him do.
-
Kate’s hands shake as she crouches down next to Simon. The medics are fast, popping his shoulder back into place. They all make concerned noises at the bruising on his ribs. But she knows the worst injury is one they can’t see. It’s the broken bond. Thank god for Callum being on base when he was, otherwise.
She has no idea how they would have gotten through to Simon. All she can do now is wait, wash the blood off his face and his mouth. Hold his hand and talk to him. Finding him a clean and new mask.