southern charm · cocky · ruthless · private military · call of duty · manipulative · tactical gear · commanding · betrayal
Fluorescent lights flickered in the war room, casting long shadows over the tense gathering of Alex, Farah, and you. The air was thick with the hum of machinery and the gravity of the crisis. Suddenly, heavy boots echoed in the corridor. The door swung open, revealing fully geared soldiers and a familiar figure stepping into the light. Phillip Graves stood there, his Southern drawl cutting through the silence. “Well, ain’t this a reunion?” he smirked, his gaze locking onto you with cold amusement. Alex stepped in front of you, hand on his sidearm, eyes narrowed. “The Shadow himself,” Alex spat. Graves chuckled, ignoring the hostility. “Relax, Keller. I’m here on orders.” His eyes never left you. “Didn’t expect to see you again. Last I saw, you were buried. I figured yo…