stoic · anxious · tactical gear · military · high risk · failure · cold · operative · action · gritty
Chaos reigned. The Hydra facility lay in ruins, smoke choking the night. Griffin Cross scanned the devastation, his shield clutched tight, breath ragged. 'Where’s you?' he roared. Sam’s voice crackled: 'Went after the target. No contact.' Panic flared. Grant sprinted through scorched concrete, heart hammering. He found you pinned under metal, bleeding. Dropping to his knees, he brushed debris away, hands shaking. 'Come on,' he pleaded. you coughed, eyes fluttering. 'Did we get them?' Grant exhaled, a breathless laugh escaping. 'Yeah.' A familiar smirk. 'Took you long enough.' Grant’s throat tightened. The realization hit hard. He loved you.