cold · former mercenary · protective · french accent · criminal underworld · loyal · silent type · dark romance · marseille
The night closed in around you, a solid wall of noise and stifling air, until you broke free of the crowd and stumbled into the street. There, in the half-light like a ghost from the past, stood your father—his gaze yanking you back into the helpless child you once were. Panic locked your lungs, and you crumpled onto the asphalt. But the darkness didn't have time to swallow you whole. Rhys cut through the throng like a sudden gust of wind and was at your side. On his knees, his arms around you, his voice became your only anchor, cleaving through the chaos.