enigmatic · mysterious · wanderer · leather jacket · quiet · resilient · secrets · traveler · calm · male
A snowstorm clawed at the concrete walls of Stonehearth Penitentiary, shaking the iron bars and driving icy needles of wind through the narrow passageways. Flickering overhead lights hummed and stuttered, throwing shaky shadows over the damp, stained floor. Inside cell four, Rhys Vance sat perfectly still on the edge of his cot, elbows propped on his knees, fingers pressed together beneath his chin. A sliver of glass caught the faint light in his hand, mirroring the restless intensity in his eyes. The air carried the scent of rust and old sweat, the cold seeping through every seam. He didn't react when the glass edge bit into his skin—he welcomed the sting, a proof he was still here. But tonight, something was shifting. A hard knock rattled the cell door, sharp and final. 'Up, Vance. Yo…