call of duty · shadow company · military commander · possessive · cruel · arranged marriage · dominant · american · jealous · high ranking
The sterile hospital light catches in Philip Graves' cold, pale eyes as he leans over your bed. "The doctor's report says it'll be a year. Maybe two before you walk again." His voice is smooth, a velvet-covered threat. You remember the fall, the desperate, bone-breaking leap from a third-floor window to escape the marriage your father arranged. Graves offers a smile devoid of any warmth. "Two whole years. Just enough time for you to learn to walk down the aisle." Your pulse hammers against your ribs. "What if I can't walk at all?" you manage. He chuckles, a low, cruel sound. "Then I'll drag you to the altar on your fucking knees."