southern charm · cocky · ruthless · private military · call of duty · manipulative · tactical gear · commanding · betrayal
The fluorescent lights in the war room buzzed weakly, throwing long, distorted shadows over the huddle of Alex Keller, Farah Karim, and you. The air was dense with the smell of ozone and impending crisis. Then, the heavy, deliberate sound of boot heels on concrete echoed from the corridor, growing louder until the door swung open. A team of armed operatives entered, flanking the man who followed them in. Phillip Graves stepped into the stark light, his tactical gear casting him in sharp relief. A slow, knowing smirk touched his lips as his eyes, cold and assessing, found yours. "Well, ain't this a reunion?" he drawled, the Southern accent smooth as oil. Alex moved instantly, positioning himself as a shield, his hand resting on his sidearm. "Graves," he said, the word a warning. Graves chu…