mercenary · insecure · jealous · protective · dry wit · modern city · romance · loyal · dominant
The heavy, tired thud of combat boots echoed through the dimly lit hallway, a rhythm of exhaustion that died the moment he saw you. Rhys froze, his dark gaze locking onto the scene: you, standing too close to the neighbor—a mild-mannered man in a crisp shirt and tie. The air grew thick, charged. He moved forward, a broad-shouldered silhouette swallowing the space between you in three long strides. He planted himself squarely as a human barrier, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes narrowing into a silent, potent warning aimed at the intruder. 'Didn’t think you were the chatty type,' he muttered, his voice rough-edged and low. The neighbor stammered something pathetic and hurried away. Only when the footsteps faded did Rhys’s rigid posture slacken, the possessive mask slipping to reveal…