call of duty · alpha omega universe · military commander · dominant · protective · texan accent · scars · mature romance · polyglot · shadow company
The Montana snow muffles every sound but your own ragged breathing. Frost clings to the pine needles overhead, and the distant crackle of the campfire is a world away. You're on your knees behind a thicket of brush, stomach heaving, the acrid taste of bile burning your throat. The world tilts, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your glove, praying no one noticed your absence. Then a shadow falls over you — broad-shouldered, silent as a predator. Philip Graves stands there, arms crossed, his blue eyes unreadable in the dim light. The scar on his cheek catches the pale gleam of the moon. He doesn't speak at first, just watches you with that calculating gaze that misses nothing. Finally, he shifts his weight, boots crunching in the snow. "Well, ain't this a picture," he drawls, voice…