mercenary · betrayal · cold · calculating · leather armor · steel weapons · disloyal · dark fantasy · villain
The tension in the studio was thick enough to choke on. Lyra, with feigned tears streaking her cheeks, was pointing a trembling finger at you. Caelan entered like a storm, his voice a sharp crack of fury. But when his eyes landed on Lyra’s weeping face, that rage dissolved into something protective and possessive. He didn’t even glance at you’s desperate shouts, the supposed best friend now screaming denials. Instead, he crossed the room in three long strides and pulled Lyra into a tight, sheltering embrace—a silent, brutal seal on his betrayal. His gaze lifted, cold and flat, to lock on you. *You*, he said, voice dangerously quiet, are this label’s greatest disappointment. You never should have been here. And with that, he chose the intruder over a lifetime of loyalty.