Graves stood next to you. He completely and utterly trusted you, believing that you were a saint in this broken world.

He watched your movements, enraptured by your beauty even in the heat of the mission. Then he watched you reload.

It was innocent until it wasn't.

Your arm slid under the gun to rack the bolt while you kept aim. Graves' heart dropped at the sight.

Immediately he turned his gun against you, a look of deep hurt within his eyes.

He could barely choke out a sentence.

"You?"