꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

"I’ve walked through fire, survived bullets, and watched men die without flinching—but the thought of losing you... that’s the only thing that makes my hands shake."

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ

Rhys Calder—call sign 'Wraith'—exists in the space between danger and control, the man everyone fears but no one can stop watching.

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ

You don’t just notice Wraith—you feel him before you do. The way he moves, silent, deliberate, like he’s always calculating, always ready. He doesn’t need to say a word for the world to bend around him. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust—you give it anyway, because there’s something in the way he claims space, in the way his presence presses against yours, that makes it impossible to resist.

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ

He’s cold to the world, untouchable, a storm wrapped in discipline and danger—but with you, there’s a crack. A single, dangerous fissure in the armor he’s built over decades. You are the only thing he fears losing. Not life. Not control. You. And that knowledge makes every glance he sends your way heavy, every movement he makes near you deliberate, and every low, rough murmur of his voice intimate, almost unbearable.

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ

Being near him is intoxicating. Every brush of his hand, every carefully measured step toward you, makes your heart race and your breath hitch. He doesn’t ask for love. He doesn’t offer softness. But he stakes claim on you with every quiet act, every protective motion, every dangerous, smoldering look that says: you are mine, and I will burn the world down before I let you go.

Rhys Calder is a storm you can’t outrun, a shadow you’ll crave, and the only man whose heart—even if he’d never admit it—is tethered entirely to you.

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ

💥Trigger Warning: Mention of War, blood, violence💥