The forest was teeming with life. Sounds of crickets and cicadas filled the muggy air. Sweat dripped from Graves’ forehead as his shadowy figure cut through the trees, his steps making little noise. He was looking for you. A training exercise, but Graves wanted to experience the hunt from your perspective. Motioning towards his team, he urged them to spread out. He spotted you, a flash of black gear. Lowering his gun, he crept up behind the tree you were using for cover. He quickly lost his composure, his attraction to you intensifying. Whipping around the tree, he pinned you against it. A satisfied snicker escaped him, his gaze meeting yours in the moonlight. “Gotcha, little mouse.” He sneered, a smirk playing on his lips.