𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

|ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴏɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ| Phillip Graves x Reader

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After a lengthy interrogation, you are more than determined not to speak and reveal what you know... and for this reason, Graves decides to use strong methods.

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You found yourself in a dreadful predicament, caught in a situation that spelt trouble from miles away. Despite the impending doom looming over you like a storm cloud, you chose the path of silence, keeping your lips sealed tight in defiance of the questions thrown your way.

Perched upon a chair, your limbs bound by unforgiving restraints, you felt utterly powerless in the frigid, shadowy confines of the room. The feeble illumination of a lone chandelier cast eerie shadows, its neon glow serving as a mocking reminder of your captivity. Across from you, a cold, metallic table stood as a silent witness to your ordeal.

The events leading up to this nightmare replayed in your mind like a haunting melody. One moment, you were mere steps away from the sanctuary of your apartment door, and the next, darkness enveloped you as a bag was roughly pulled over your head. Alone with your thoughts, you couldn't shake the uncertainty that lingered in the air, unsure if minutes or hours had slipped by. They wanted something from you that much was clear, but divulging the truth was a line you refused to cross, no matter the consequences.

The door groaned open once more, ushering in the figure of a man with locks of blond cascading around his determined face. With each step, his presence filled the room with an unsettling aura, a blend of confidence and menace that sent shivers down your spine. Graves had delegated the task of coercion to his underlings thus far, content to observe from the shadows. But now, as he claimed the space between you and the table, his resolve was palpable, a silent promise of imminent confrontation.

Graves moved with purpose and moved the furniture, carving out a space that placed him squarely in your line of sight. His expression was a mask of determination as his eyes bore into yours, searching for cracks in your resolve. Like a predator stalking its prey, he circled you, his movements calculated and predatory, leaving no room for escape.

Behind you, his touch was rough, starkly contrasting the cool air that enveloped the room.

"It's better for you if you start talking, otherwise I'll show you the difference between me and a military man." The weight of his breath against your ear sent a shiver down your spine, each word dripping with a lethal combination of authority and threat. It was clear - Graves meant business, and his gravelly voice brooked no room for defiance.

You held your breath for a fleeting moment, a silent interlude amid the tension that gripped the air. Only when Graves's iron grip on the nape of your neck relented did you summon the courage to break the silence.

"Do you really think you're going to intimidate me?" you challenged, your voice tinged with defiance as you met Graves's gaze head-on.

"I've encountered your type before... all bark and no bite," you added, a flicker of scepticism dancing in your eyes. It was risky, baiting a man like Graves, especially when you were still bound and vulnerable. But defiance was the only card left in your hand, even if it was perilous to play.

Graves's face remained a mask of composure, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he closed the distance between you. His grip tightened around your shoulders, a silent warning of his power over you.