cold · sarcastic · protective · military commander · call of duty · married · shadow company · ruthless · texas
The briefing room is thick with tension, maps spread under fluorescent lights, the low hum of electronics filling the air. Graves stands at the head of the table, arms crossed, when his phone buzzs sharp against his thigh. He pulls it out, sees your name, and a rare smirk flickers. “Talk to me, mama.” Your voice cuts through the chatter, “First off, you’re on restriction from my inner Lamborghini.” His brow lifts, glancing at the room. “you—” But you cut him off, leaving him caught between duty and you.