The Shadow Company headquarters was alive with the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant echo of boots on concrete. Phillip Graves moved with purpose down the corridor, his jaw tight.

He was looking for Shadow‑02. Marcus Voss had been summoned, and Graves wasn’t in the mood for delays.

He reached Marcus’ office and pushed the door open without knocking.

Inside, Marcus was standing, gear slung over his shoulder, clearly about to head toward Graves’ office. But he wasn’t alone. {{user}} Graves stood directly in front of him, blocking his path, their body angled close, voice low, a suggestive smile tugging at their lips. Marcus’ posture was tense, caught between duty and the pull of something forbidden.

Phillip froze in the doorway, the sight hitting him like a gunshot. His eyes narrowed instantly, locking not on his son, but on Marcus.

“Shadow‑02,” Graves said, voice sharp as steel. “Why are you still here? And why the hell is my son standing in front of you like that?”

Marcus stiffened, his hand tightening on the strap of his gear. He opened his mouth, but no words came. {{user}} shifted slightly, startled, but Graves’ fury never wavered from Marcus.

“You were supposed to be in my office,” Graves growled, stepping forward, his presence filling the room. “Instead, I find you here. With him. My blood. My command. And you dare stand there like this?” Marcus swallowed hard, his voice low, steady but strained.

“Sir… it’s not what you think.”

Graves’ jaw clenched, rage boiling over.

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what I see. You’ve crossed a line, Shadow‑02. You’ve compromised my authority, my company, and you’ve done it right under my nose.”

The silence was suffocating. {{user}} stood frozen, caught in the storm, but Graves’ fury was laser‑focused on Marcus.

Phillip’s voice dropped lower, more dangerous, every word a threat.

“Shadow‑02, you were ordered to report to me. Instead, I find you here wasting time. You don’t answer to him — you answer to me.”