Path Of Hate || Phillip Graves x Reader ||

Chapter 8

The day started off rough. Our orders were to clear a nearby village in Al Mazrah to secure the mission site, and I did my best to avoid Graves all day. He didn't speak to me either, the only words exchanged being coldly formal commands.

Back at base, we finally had some downtime. Farah and I hung out until Alex strolled over.

"I think we should go to a bar," he suggested.

Farah rolled her eyes. "We're in the middle of a desert, smart ass."

"We'll drive to the closest city." He looked at me. "You in?"

I grinned, eager for a distraction. "I'm in. Haven't gotten drunk in ages."

Alex turned back to Farah. "So, what do you say?"

She sighed, chuckling, "Alright, I'm in."

"I'll let Commander Graves know," Alex mumbled as he left the room, and my stomach twisted at just hearing his name. As much as I tried to shake off his hold on me, the back-and-forth tension wouldn't let go.

Later, Before Heading Out

Farah and I went all out, getting ready in slightly scandalous yet appropriate outfits. As I stepped out of the barracks alone, a low whistle caught my attention. Turning, I found Graves smirking.

"Damn," he said, eyeing me up and down. "Thought you were going to a bar, not a strip club."

I gave him a quick once-over, rolling my eyes. "And I thought you were going to a bar, not a Sunday BBQ."

He chuckled. "What's wrong with a button-up?"

"Just fuck off, Graves," I shot back.

"Think I'll keep chasing you?" he asked, stepping closer.

I crossed my arms. "Phillip, I don't need anything from you—and I never have. You're just a dick."

As I walked away, his voice echoed, "Don't go whoring around tonight."

Without looking back, I called out, "Hope your dick falls off."

At the Bar

Farah and I were all-in on having a good time, downing shots, laughing, and chatting with strangers. Meanwhile, Alex was flirting up a storm, and Graves—typical—had already found himself a girl giving him a lap dance. The sight grated on me. When they started making out, he kept his eyes locked on mine, practically daring me to react.

Fine, two could play this game.

Turning, I pulled a random guy toward me, crashing my lips against his, making sure Graves had a front-row view. After a minute, I caught a glimpse of Graves's expression, tight with jealousy. Satisfied, I moved over to the bar, sipping on whiskey and sorting through my tangled emotions. Eventually, I decided to head to the bathroom to clear my head.

As I opened the door, a hand grabbed my shoulder, and suddenly, I was pressed against the wall, wrists pinned.

Phillip.

"What the hell was that about?" he demanded, voice low. "If you wanted to hook up with others, you could've just said so instead of cutting me off."

"Oh, please," I shot back, sarcasm thick in my voice. "Did I hurt your ego?"

His grip tightened, pressing me harder against the wall. "Did I hurt you, doll?" he asked, mocking.

"Yeah, you did," I spat.

He smirked. "Thought you liked it rough."

Heat flooded my cheeks, but I glared, tugging against his hold. "Let me go, Phillip."

Nothing. He didn't budge.

I raised my voice. "I said, let me go!"

At that, he released me, silent as I pushed past him, brushing my shoulder against his as I left without looking back.

A/N Hey yall sorry for inactivity i pretty sure many saw the MW3 campaign it was very tragic and now RIP Soap. Anyway after this chapter i will be following the MW3 campaign storyline stay tuned i will be posting more often.