#astherushcomes

You didn’t answer, instead focusing your gaze into that cold blue eyes. You pulled at your zipties. They didn’t give as much as a millimeter.

“Don’t make me force you to talk,” Graves’s voice got sterner, colder. “You won’t like my methods.”

And that was when you shoved that fear deep down inside of you and answered him.

“You said you’d try to kill me,”

Graves scoffed at your answer and creepily brushed your bangs out of your eyes before saying, “No I said I’d fuck you and then kill you. Not try. Actually kill you.”

“You wish,” you snapped.

“Keep smartmouthin’ me,” Graves smirked, “and I’ll hurt you,”

You rolled your eyes.

“Where’s your boss?”

You shrugged, adding, “Dunno,”

“Your phone” he demanded.

“Tossed it,”

And again, Graves reached for your right arm but you pulled back. He was deliberately inflicting pain on an old injury he had caused and he seemed to be getting off on it.

You gasped in surprise (and fear) when Graves grabbed the lapel of your jacket before pulling you into a standing position and slamming you hard enough against the wall to where the breath was knocked out of you.

“Cooperate or things ‘re gonna get painful for you, darlin’ and that’s a guarantee,” Graves snapped.

But then he changed his tone, almost on a dime.

Before you could do anything else his hands were all over you. His hot, hardened, scarred hands easily made their way under your jacket and shirt.

“You remember the night we first met?” Graves asked, his voice hoarse and his hot lips and breath brushing your ear.

“That C-minus lay? Yeah,” you snapped back.

And with that he grasped your hair and pulled your head back.

“You got off on it,” Graves replied.

He released your hair and both his hands were under your shirt, ghosting their way up your scarred ribs to sneak into your bra and you couldn’t hold back the groan in your throat that was forced from you.

“Maybe I don’t need to hurt you to get you to talk, sweetheart,”

His hands slipped into the waistband of your pants and was wandering further when he suddenly withdrew and released you, causing you to fall to your knees.

“Motherfucker,” you hissed. “Got me all worked up for nothing?”

“’S a good look for you,” he signaled to where you knelt.

“You’re fuckin’ bipolar, you psycho,” you snapped.

Graves chuckled at the way you glared at him.

“So here’s the thing,” Graves started, “I know how best to break people who don’t talk.”

You huffed a laugh. “There’s nothing you could do to me that would compare to what I’ve been through in my life.”

“That beatdown I gave you seemed to set you straight for a while,” Graves shrugged. “Need a reminder? I can start by re-breaking your arm.”

“Fuck off,” you choked out. Fuck this guy. Fuck him for making you scared of him.

“So that’s a maybe,” Graves said. “I’m sure my boys could blow off some steam, too.” He paused before adding, “You wouldn’t break under pain I feel like.” He hesitated, studying you like you were prey. “You’ll break under sleep deprivation and drugs.”

“I can fall asleep anywhere,” you scoffed.

“You won’t be able to sleep once I get medical to dose you up with amphetamines,” Graves smirked.

All you could do was glare as Graves continued his threats. “Or maybe I could just let my gang use you however the hell they want and pass you around.”

“Just remember to tell your boys I have teeth, then,” you attempted to hide the unfamiliar feeling of anxiety. You hadn’t felt anxious since you were a child and you had never been afraid of your targets.

Until now.

“If I or them so much as feel teeth, we’ll use pliers,” Graves began circling you like a predator would his prey. “Is that what you’re most scared of? It’s what all women are scared of, right?”

Graves reached behind you and you flinched. You couldn’t help it. Surprisingly, he uncuffed you. You looked up at him in surprise, shock.

And then you took advantage of the moment, getting to your feet and launching a punch.

Which missed.

And then your head was hitting concrete when Graves tripped you and shoved you forward, not giving you enough time to really break the fall with your arms.

“I’m givin’ you one more chance,” Graves mentioned, not even out of breath. “You’re gonna be useful to me, understand?”

Graves reached out, grasping your hair and making you look at him.

And you spat in his face, saliva mixed with blood from where you’d been knocked unconscious earlier and from hitting concrete just now.

You saw that it took everything in that man to not choke the life out of you, punch you, smack you.

But it was a brief reprieve because he shoved you onto your back, straddled you and wrapped his hands around your neck for long enough to lose consciousness.

***

You woke up later. You had no idea if it was day or night or even the date.

You didn’t know when later was. You could have been out for a day or more but you also could have been passed out only for a few minutes.

You curled up for protection before trying to go back to sleep. Your head was pounding and you wanted nothing more than to sleep it off.

So you allowed that darkness to swallow you once more.

Then you woke up again.

And passed out another time.

You cycled through wakefulness and unconsciousness for who knows how long. It wasn’t restful sleep, not really. The only real thing that told you significant time was passing was that you’d started to get hungry and thirsty.

***

“Hope you slept well, darlin’” Graves’s voice slowly brought you back to consciousness.

You were still on that dirty concrete floor and your body ached from sleeping on it for an unknown amount of time.

“What do you care?” you wanted your voice to sound snappy but it came out as a little more than a hoarse whisper.

“I don’t, sweetheart,” Graves answered simply. “But that was the last time you’re going to shut your eyes unless you talk to me.”

Then Graves signaled to someone who was not in your line of sight.

And then you were held down.

There was Graves and another tall, looming figure with him. They held you down with ease despite your attempts to fight. Despite your curses and screams at them to let you go.

“Where’s your boss? What’s his name?” Graves demanded, borderline yelling.

You screamed back that he’d kill you if you gave away that info.

So they held you still effortlessly and started an IV line. There was cold liquid pushed into your body through your arm.

“Let me know when you start hallucinating,” Graves and his partner released you and you instantly scooted away from them.

“I’ll rip it out,” you glared when you saw the IV line in your arm.

“And we’ll restart it,” Graves said simply.

“What do you mean hallucinating?” you called after him after Graves and his mute partner started to leave the room.

“Sweetheart, you’re not sleepin’ for a while with that shit ‘n your system,”

And after giving you a smirk, he and his partner stepped out of the room and locked the door behind them.

***

At first, staying awake wasn’t a bad thing. You tried to listen for noises around you but you couldn’t hear much, indicating you might be in a soundproof room which likely meant you were deep into the base. Walking or escaping was not going to be an option. You didn’t really believe in a higher power but God only knew how many people had been tortured in here, how many people had died in here. You had nothing to pass the time. The lights were bright as fuck and while you were on edge, you hadn’t been given enough to get a high.

Because the room was soundproof it was starting to…make you feel odd.

You heard your name called and you were certain no one had called you. For you to hear your name being called, that person would have to be in the room with you. Were you already hallucinating? Maybe not for lack of sleep but perhaps your brain was starting to make stuff up to cover for the abnormal quiet of the room. Maybe both. Maybe you’d finally gone insane. Maybe they dosed you with enough amphetamines to make you hallucinate.

But no high. Sadistic motherfucker.

So you scooted into a corner, pulled your knees up to your chest and tried to relax. Not sleep but relax.

***

An alarm scared you out of your thoughts and made you jump so badly you almost stood up. The alarm continued until it felt like it was reverberating in your skull. You covered your ears and hope it would stop.

You had no idea how long it went on but it felt like hours. When it finally stopped, your ears were ringing.

And on and on and on it went.

***

You had to have been awake for at least 24 hours by now. You knew the signs of exhaustion because there were times where you’d been in the field for days living off energy drinks (drugs weren’t allowed boss said).

You were having that familiar ache in muscles and joints.

Weren’t you getting too old for this shit?

***

You could feel your eyes burning by the next time Graves stepped back into that cold, sterile tomb of a room.

“Your boss’s name and location,” Graves stated.

“Fuck off,” was your answer. “Better yet fuck you.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Graves stated. “You’ve been up for two and a half days, so you’d make an easy target,”

“And?”

So they repeated the process of holding you down and reinjecting you with what Graves called pharmaceutical methamphetamine, not that street shit.

***

Somewhere in your insane mind was a sane thought.

Maybe.

Maybe you were going about this all wrong. Maybe you needed to pretend to be cooperating with Graves.

He’ll kill you if he finds out you’re lying.

You didn’t mind at all because at least you wouldn’t be conscious anymore.

You were starting to hear voices and see shadows, making you paranoid. Not Graves’s Shadows but dark figures that lashed out at you and made you scream.

So when Graves came back into your room (if you could call it a room) you weren’t hostile. He asked what he always asked.

“What’s your boss’s name?” He paused before sneering at you, saying, “you look like hell by the way. You’ve probably gotten about an hour of sleep in the last four days.”

“Okay, okay,” you found yourself slurring. “Robert but I don’t know if it’s his real name.”

Graves frowned. “He raised you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah and he’s lied to me for my entire fucked up childhood,” you laughed but it wasn’t a laugh of humor. Moreso of insanity. “He burned my fingerprints off when I was 10.”

“So give ‘is ass up,” Graves said. “I’ll kill ‘im slow. Fuck child abusers.”

“He used the name Robert,” you admitted. “Dunno if he’s still using it,”

“Where is he?”

“I dunno, I don’t, doesn’t tell me,”

“That’s all I needed from ya’, doll,”

“I need to sleep,” and that was the first time you’d pleaded to someone since you were a child. “Please. Can I just stay in here and sleep? And no more alarms.”

“’S no alarms in this room, ma’am. Whatever the hell ya heard, wasn’t real.”

“Please just let me sleep,”

“I’ll do you one better,”

***

Graves had to carry you out of that room bridal style. Because when you tried to stand up you collapsed.

Looked like it was working. Graves thought you were cooperating. Sure your boss had used the name Robert. But he had also used at least a dozen other names.

It was only after Graves picked you up that you realized how much your body hurt.

Awake for four days and you were really starting to see and hear shit.

***

When Graves undressed you, you saw scratch marks all over your arms. You wondered where they’d come from.

“You did it,” Graves shrugged, almost as if he was reading your mind. “Prob’ly tryin’ to do anything to test what’s real.”

There was nothing sexual about the way he took your clothes off but you wanted him. You wanted proof this was real and not another hallucination.

But when you tried to kiss him, your coordination was all off and Graves laughed. He laughed at you.

The last thing you remembered was a comfortable warmth surrounding you.

***

You woke up naked, in a bed. You had no idea how long you’d slept but it had to have been for more than a few hours because the last you remembered before passing out was being put into a warm bath and your hair was now dry.

You had no idea Graves was even in the room until he spoke. And when he did you jumped.

He had been standing behind you on the other side of the bed.

“Don’t you just look rested,” Graves almost cooed mockingly.

“Don’t you look rapey,” you shot back.

He was wearing normal civilian attire but still had that damn vest. That thing had to weigh an extra 10-20 pounds at least.

“Why’d you always wear that thing? You’re on base. You’re safe.”

“Apparently not seeing as you had me in your sniper crosshairs 5 days ago.”

Your mind and body were still exhausted and you wondered whether this was real or some fever dream you were having back in that cell.

“Well I obviously don’t have any weapons and I sure as hell got nothing on your strength sooo…take it off,” you requested.

“That what you want, darlin’?” Graves drawled. He walked over to where you were seated. His weight dipped the bed significantly when he sat next to you and that just reminded you of how massive he was compared to you.

“More than anything,”

And then Graves leaned forward and caught your lips with his. It surprised you how gentle he was. He gently yanked the sheet your were using to cover yourself.

“You go first,” Graves almost whispered.

So you grabbed that stupid vest of his and pulled him in close to you. He’d fucked you in full gear before but you wanted something different this time. You yanked at the tough Velcro keeping his vest together.

But you weren’t strong enough yet.

He chuckled and you felt the deep vibrations of his laugh because you were that close to him. He still smelled of battlefield, of blood, sweat, gunpowder, and aftershave. He always did like to bang after getting back from a mission. He was rougher with you when he admitted to you he’d taken lives.

Graves easily tore the Velcro and slid his vest off. It made a dull thud on the floor, making you think that you were being held on a floor that wasn’t the first. Noted.

He laid you down underneath him, wrapping your legs around his waist. You felt his sidearm digging into your hip.

Then he unbuckled his sidearm and set it aside, out of your reach but well within his. “I don’t trust you, sweetheart,” he said, echoing the same words he had the first night you met him.

He leaned forward, hot, wet lips brushing your ear before he said, “I need ‘ta get off and you’re the only girl here. Cooperate, don’t, I don’t care. You’re mine.”

That drew a ragged moan from your throat and Graves then dragged his teeth and lips down your neck.

You pushed at him, at his shirt, indicating he should take if off.

Graves seemed to decide to accommodate you. He pulled away, unbuttoning his shirt before tossing it aside. His hands tangled in your hair, angling your head and face so he could kiss you again, his tongue easily and possessively sweeping your mouth.

Your nimble fingers got in between the two of you, reaching his belt.

With that, his hot fingers ghosted up your ribs, cupping your breasts, and then suddenly you were pinned. Graves easily pinned your wrists with one hand. His gaze fell on chest and you thought he was looking at your body pinned underneath him.

The fingers of his right hand traced the scars on your body from a year ago. One bullet exited, the other the hospital had to dig out. And all that left scars on your body that were obvious.

“You were the one that got away, ya’know?”

Your darker gaze met his blue one, and even though there was low lighting, those stone-cold blue eyes glowed. They glowed with lust and something else you couldn’t quite pin down. But it made you uneasy.

“What’d you mean?”

“When I intend to kill someone they die. You didn’t.”

“Sorry…?” came your sarcastic remark.

Your eyes caught a glint and saw he had a military pocketknife in his hand. He made sure you saw it and you weren’t sure if he was doing it as a threat.

When he let you go, you didn’t dare get up. His threat that he would fuck you and then kill you hung heavy in the air and you had no weapons, no way to defend yourself.

Graves suddenly slid off the bed and you were wondering what he was doing, if he was going to stab you to death.

But he just finished taking the rest of his clothes off.

It was like slow motion as he climbed back over you, placing his hands on the backs of your knees and wrapping your legs around him once more.

You breath caught in your throat at the sudden movement and because you realized just how vulnerable you were.

“What, no foreplay?”

“Why’re you shaking?” Graves cooed creepily.

Your eyes caught the glint of that knife again. And so you decided to say something that would throw him off guard.

“That the same knife I used to drop your girlfriend in the hotel?”

Graves look surprised but only for a second.

“Figured that was you,” Graves smirked.

His hair tickled your neck as he leaned forward, his lips trailing lower, just over your breasts. His lips and breath were hot and when you arched up, towards him you could feel him, hot, heavy, and hard, at your entrance.

Graves apparently didn’t like that you took that small but of control so out came the knife again and you felt it’s cold bite at your neck. A second after you felt him push inside you roughly, making you cry out.

He shushed you and then you felt him move inside you and you gasped.

You heard the knife clatter to the floor and you brought your hands to his bare shoulders, scratching as deep as you could. And if you didn’t know better you’d swear he got harder inside you as he pushed deeper and bottomed out.

He reached up, removing your hands from his shoulders, hissing when they briefly made contact with his recently scratched skin.

Graves leaned forward and with his lips brushing yours, whispered, ”I fuckin’ missed you, sweetheart.”

His hands dropped to your hips and grabbed your ass, bring you up to meet his thrusts. “S’ a reason I called 911,”

“Graves…,”you started.

“Say my name darlin’,” he growled in a low voice.

His hands went up, over your breasts and once again pinned your wrists down on either side of your head. He had bruising strength and it almost felt like his grip was going to separate your hands from your arms via your wrists.

“And if I’m not bein’ rude,” Graves pulled out, almost whining at the loss of your wet heat from around him before pushing back in, none to gently. “Doesn’t feel like ya need foreplay,”

A ragged moan escaped your lips as he continued to push inside you, pull out, and slam back in. You were already thinking you weren’t going to last too long. “Fuuuck, Graves,”

His hot mouth once again dropped to your chest, to your breasts and then he used his teeth to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, using his incisors to apply just the right amount of pain.

Then suddenly your world tilted violently and found yourself on top, his hands back around your hips where he held them in a bruising grip, easily pulling you onto him, making you feel him deeper than before.

Graves then wrapped one of his hands in your hair, pulling you down towards him so your breasts rubbed his own chest, which was hot, sweaty. He then…licked your neck where he had nicked you with his knife earlier.

And when he ground his hips against yours, he rubbed your clit in just the right way, and all the combined sensations were enough to pull you over the edge. You threw your head back, your bangs sticking to your sweaty face and your hair sticking to your back.

Graves again asserted dominance as he pinned you underneath him once more. His thrusts were losing their rhythm and his breaths were becoming labored. His thrusts soon became sloppy and faster. He then stilled inside you and he pushed as deep as he could as he climaxed with a roar, almost as if he was enjoying dominating you.

He came so fucking hard you felt him as he pulsed inside you before stilling and collapsing on top of you.

You sat up in bed and grabbed your phone, seeing it was 2 in the morning. These nightmares had been going on every night sometimes multiple times a night since you’d regained consciousness.

You were almost ambidextrous before but now your right arm was at 75-80% mobility thanks to the spiral fracture Graves had inflicted when he broke your arm.

So you used your left arm to toss the covers off. Life had been pure hell since Graves had almost killed you. You might have been medically fragile when you got discharged from the hospital but that didn’t stop your boss from beating the shit out of you for the failed mission.

A year, your boss had said,  you have a year to stop faking this injury shit, find Graves, and kill him. Bring me his dog tags with his blood on ‘em.

You were almost certain that beatdown had take away mobility from your right arm too. You ran your fingers along the scars where the hospital had to cut your arm open and add screws and metal plates.

You had gotten an apartment with a garage because you were told it was going to take you months to recover. You dressed in shorts and a tank top before heading to the garage as you normally slept naked.

You got into your garage and looked upon the masterpiece you had been putting together in the last year. The entire wall of the garage was Phillip Graves. You’d been obsessed with tracking him down so for the last year that was all you had done, track Graves as much as you could.

You’d used string and thumbtacks to track his movements with as much detail as you could but you were still missing some pieces. Luckily paying a highly ranked military officer overlooking PMC contracts was finally able to pin Graves down to your home country.

As far as you knew, he was back in the States which would make killing him easier. You wouldn’t have to worry about a third-world enemy capturing you or a fake passport so you could focus all on Graves.

The map on your garage wall was taller than you, making you need to get a stepladder.

Graves was supposedly taking an R&R with his company in Houston, TX which was perfect because no matter where Graves went in Houston, there were sure to either be empty buildings or some other way your could hide high up and snipe Graves.

Sniping would be the lowest risk but the lowest reward. You wouldn’t get to see him die.

The highest risk highest reward would be to allow yourself to be captured, pray Graves didn’t kill you outright, and lay low, get information, gain his trust, then kill him before leaving with dead Graves’s dog tags and interior information about Shadow company.

I don’t care how you fucking do it, you recall your boss telling you after you reeled and almost whimpered from the pain the beatdown he’d given you for failing your mission. Get it done. Be his fuckin’ whore for a year and then kill him. Snipe him. Get it done or go ahead and pick out your headstone.

You’d be able to prove yourself and provide information on Shadow Company. Your boss wouldn’t see you as a failure anymore and you’d get to live.

Weeks of trying to make a decision was interrupted by a text from you boss, simply saying, Two months left.

You’d tracked Graves down to Houston but it was proving difficult to find him in a vulnerable position enough to take him out with a sniper rifle.  He was too heavily guarded to simply approach him and attempt the hit.

That night you fell asleep and finally slept for more than 5 hours straight because you finally had a plan. You’d make a pathetic attempt to hurt Graves and you were certain his boys would jump all over you…but they wouldn’t kill you…not until Graves gave the order.

And if Graves did give them the order at least you’d die quick rather than slowly and painfully at your boss’s hand.

***

Today was Graves’s last day in Houston or so you’d been told from intel. So you needed to move quick.

It hadn’t been too hard to find the fancy hotel where Graves and his Shadows had been staying. So to make sure you wore a cloth mask similar to the one you wore when COVID had been rampant. You’d died and cut your hair. The only part of you left unchanged by a large margin was your height.

You walked into the lobby and eyed some of his men, each carrying heavy military backpacks or duffels as they loaded their Tahoes and Suburbans in the back parking lot of the hotel.

You were walking down a hallway as you tried to find a way up to the roof when you saw him.

Graves himself. The Shadow himself. Shadow-01. A legendary mercenary and the CEO of his own private military.

Before you new what was happening your breath caught in your throat. Were you panicking? Afraid? He was leaving his own hotel room, military backpack securely on his shoulders. You thought he was alone when you saw what you’d describe as a dumb bimbo whore walking out of his hotel room after him.

And then fear turned into…jealousy?  Why the hell did you care who Graves slept with?

But it was definitely jealousy burning in your chest.

So when she walked away while Graves was getting the last of his belongings from his hotel room, she brushed your side and that was all you needed to shove a knife right into her ribs.

She started to cry out but you delivered a sharp karate shop to her throat to where she couldn’t speak. Next you delivered a blow to her solar plexus, so she’d be quiet for at least the next minute while she gasped for air. You used your gloved hands to shove the knife in her hand, making it seem like she had either done it herself or done it accidentally.

You turned the corner when Graves closed his hotel room door, keycard in his hand.

“You trip, darlin’?” He drawled as he walked closer to his female friend. When he tried to help her up, he noticed she was bleeding heavily from her side. And that she was gasping for air.

“Holy shit,” Graves actually sounded surprised. “What…what happened?”

And you smiled for the first time in a year because you were proud of yourself that you’d managed to startle Graves.

After finding a stairway that led to the roof, you busted the lock on that door and made your way to the top of the building.

It was cold, windy up on the roof and you were glad you’d worn layers. Layers were mandatory anyway because you needed to change the clothes you’d entered that hotel in. But first…

An attempt on Graves’s life. Not a real attempt but you certainly had to make it look real.

It didn’t take long for you to build the short-range sniper rifle you’d brought with you.

You had to wait longer than your would have liked as the police and an ambulance showed up. Then the coroner. Whoops, you thought. You hadn’t meant to kill her.

Good riddance, bitch. He’s mine. And you had no idea where that thought came from.

Graves finally exited the hotel towards the back parking lot.

Through the scope you saw he looked…shaken, unsure of what had just happened.

And that made you smile a second time.

You had counted the number of men Graves had with him as they loaded up in the parking lot.

Three were missing.

You frowned into the scope, trying to see if they were already in the vehicles.

Nope. No one was in the vehicles yet.

So where were they?

Maybe in the hotel?

You were about to take another look through the scope when it suddenly darkened around you. You thought it was nothing. It was a cloudy day so maybe the sun had slipped behind the clouds.

But you were suddenly dragged backwards, away from your rifle and across the rough material of the roof.

You reached for a knife down your shirt and sliced into that motherfucker’s hand hard enough that he hissed and released you.

Shadows. They probably swept every location for threats before their boss made himself visible outside.

You knew another thing that might shock this Shadow enough to where you had more time to react was to remove your mask. You were certain Graves had warned his men about you.

And you were right.

Once you lowered the mask, you saw the Shadows's eyes widen. “You’re dead,” he gasped.

You were about to tell him, Tell your boss to finish the job next time when you heard a footstep behind you. You turned and had no time to react as a Shadow used his rifle to strike you across the left side of your head.

And then…

A sharp, stinging pain followed by falling deeper and deeper into a black hole.

***

You woke up when the vehicle you were in hit a sharp bump in the dirt road. You tried to take a breath but it was difficult. Your mouth was duct-taped shut and your hands being bound behind you didn’t help.

You felt someone tear the long sleeve of your right arm followed by a muffled, “It’s her,” you guessed they were identifying you based on the scars Graves knew he left on your body.

Then you heard Graves’s familiar drawl say, “Drug ‘her. She can’t know where she’s going,”

You tried to move but your body felt heavy and wasn’t responding to your brain’s commands. The sensation reminded you of how you felt coming out of another surgery to repair your arm. Whatever they were using to drug you was strong. And no matter how hard you fought it, you lost consciousness faster than you would have liked.

***

You woke up on a cement floor. The duct tape had been removed from your face but your hands were still bound behind you. It was causing significant pain in your right arm.

“What’d I say would happen to you if I got ahold of you?”

And when you opened your eyes you saw him standing in front of you, larger than life, in the same uniform and vest he’d had on the night he almost killed you.

Phillip Graves.