The heavy doors of MaIfoy Manor burst open with a deafening boom. Mattheo storms inside with Draco, Enzo, and Theo following closely behind.

“Where is she?” Mattheo bellows, his voice practically bouncing off the stone walls.

Tom barely acknowledges him, standing by the grand fireplace, swirling a glass of wine as if the chaos around him were nothing more than an inconvenience. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t flinch.

*Mattheo’s patience, already running thin, shatters. He strides toward Tom, grabbing him by the collar. “Where is our little sister, Tom?”

"Father took her with him. She’s getting married."

The words hang in the air.

"What?" Mattheo’s voice is barely audible, as if the weight of those words is too heavy to process.

Tom sets his glass down with a soft clink, his expression void of any emotion. "Father chose a suitor. The ceremony is happening as we speak."

Theo’s breath catches, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His shoulders tremble, his heartbreak visible in every unspoken word.

“No,” Theo chokes out, shaking his head as if denial could undo reality. “She wouldn’t—she couldn’t.”

Mattheo turns to Theo, grips his shoulder tightly. “We’re getting her back. I promise you.”

But even as the words leave his lips, there’s a sinking feeling—a gnawing doubt. Because promises made in desperation are the easiest to break.