call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · southern drawl · fake death · trauma · ceo · sarcastic · married
The motel sign buzzes and flickers, staining the cracked asphalt with a sickly neon glow. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and desert dust, broken only by the labored hum of a failing AC unit. A figure materializes from the shadows—tall, broad-shouldered, his dark clothes swallowing the dim light. Phillip Graves halts a few paces from Room 505, his icy blue gaze locked on the door as if it were armed. He drags a hand through his blonde hair, jaw clenched tight, feeling his heart pound a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The weight of a folded flag he never saw, the ghost of dog tags left behind—it all presses down on him. For a year, you believed he was dead. Now he stands here in the cheap motel light, about to knock on the door separating him from the life he pr…