In The Company of Your Shadows || Phillip Graves x OFC

26 - Demands

The tension in the room was palpable, crackling like electricity, my fists clenched at my sides. The laptop screen flickered with General Herschel Shepherd's unflappable face, his voice a steady stream of cold orders that made my blood boil.

"What the fuck do you mean we gotta work with Task Force 141?!" 

I shouted, my voice bouncing off the walls of the makeshift command center as I pushed myself up from the chair. My eyes were like daggers, trained on Shepherd's image on the screen. Every fiber of my being screamed against the idea. I couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

The general, sitting at his desk in some faraway secure hide out after his 'capture', barely blinked. His hands were calmly folded in front of him, his expression maddeningly neutral. 

"As I've already said, we've made a deal," he replied, his tone clipped, authoritative. "Shadow Company will be assisting the ULF and TF141 in Northern Urzikstan. Non-negotiable."

"No. You've made a deal," I scoffed, my disbelief turning to fury. 

My mind flashed to the incident in Las Almas—the chaos, the explosions, the betrayal. I hadn't been there, having gone to Paris for my own mission, but I heard the stories, and the fury in Graves' voice when he'd told me about it still rang in my ears.

Graves and Shadow Company had been on top of the world, running black ops missions and cleaning up after Shepherd's mess, until it all went south. Task Force 141 had gotten too close to the truth. They'd been inches away from uncovering the full extent of Shepherd and Graves's 'failed' operations, and they'd paid the price in blood.

But now, to be forced to work alongside them? Hell-fucking-no.

TF141, Los Vaqueros. They had blown up Graves' tank, nearly killed him, and scattered the men I fought alongside with. The sheer disrespect of it still made my blood boil.

They weren't allies. They were enemies.

"Phillip, are you hearing this shit?" I turned to my commander, my voice incredulous. "They tried to kill you! They literally blew up your fucking tank, and now we're supposed to team up with them like we're old buddies?"

Graves sat quietly, his expression hard to read, but I could tell from the tightening of his jaw that he was barely keeping a lid on his own rage. His blue eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a second, there was a flash of something—a bitterness that mirrored my own. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, calm, though there was a slight edge beneath his Southern drawl.

"Easy, doll," he muttered, not breaking eye contact with Shepherd's face on the laptop's screen. "This ain't personal. It's business."

My eyes widened, disbelief quickly replaced with anger again.

"Business?" I shot back. "They tried to bury you, Phillip! Those fuckers wouldn't hesitate to do it again if they had the chance!"

Graves leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his stubble-covered chin.

"Yeah, well, we ain't exactly innocent either, are we? We went after them first, practically burned down and destroyed their home too. Got too close to the fire, and they struck back. Can't blame 'em for that."

I froze, staring at him. "That's it? You're just gonna shrug this off because Shepherd says jump?"

Meanwhile Shepherd remained impassive, like a mountain weathering a storm. 

"We've got bigger problems, Astor. Whatever Konni's hiding in Northern Urzikstan poses a threat that neither Shadow Company nor Task Force 141 can handle alone. If we don't cooperate, we risk losing everything. You and Graves will follow orders, or you'll find yourselves without a paycheck," Shepherd spoke.