The warehouse is cold and silent. The only sound is the echo of your footsteps on the floor.

Suddenly, your heart sinks.

There, Mattheo is t!ed to a chair. He lifts his head slowly at the sound of your voice.

"Mattheo!" you gasp, taking a step forward.

But before you can reach him, a figure emerges from the shadows. Tom.

He blocks your path, standing perfectly still. His lips twist into a cold, crooked smile.

"Tom… what have you done?" you ask, your voice cracking.

"I got your boyfriend," he says with mock pride. "All those muscles didn’t help much in the end, did they?"

Mattheo lets out a strained breath.

Tom doesn't even glance at him, his gaze is fixed solely on you. "He doesn’t deserve you," Tom says, his voice low. "You think I didn’t see how you looked at him? Like he’s your whole world."

You swallow hard. "He is my whole world."

"You can't mean that," Tom says, taking a slow step toward you. "You don't know what he really is. What he’s done. I’ve seen him, remember? Every flaw, every lie, every fake smile. And still, you look right past me. Like I’m invisible."

"This isn’t about Mattheo," you say quietly. "It’s about you. You never learned how to handle being second best—"

"Because I never should’ve been!" Tom snaps, his mask cracking. "All my life, he got the praise, the attention — now he gets you too?"

You back away slightly, your heart pounding.

"I loved you," Tom growls. "From the start. I would’ve done anything for you. I still would."

"This isn’t love," you whisper. "Love doesn’t look like this."

Tom moves closer, and you catch a tremor in his hands. "I could make you happy," he murmurs, softer now, almost pleading. "If you gave me a chance. I would worship you. You’d never have to doubt yourself again. I’d never put you second."

"And yet here I am," you reply, keeping your voice steady. "Afraid of you."

Tom flinches.

Behind him, Mattheo shifts in the chair. "Let her go, Tom. This ends now."

"You’re in no position to make threats, brother," Tom snarls, turning his head but not fully facing him. "You can’t even stand."

"You don’t scare me," Mattheo spits, lifting his head. "You never did. You’re just a boy throwing a tantrum because he didn’t get what he wanted."

Tom looks back at you. "You’ll never choose me, will you?" he asks quietly. "Not even if he’s gone. Not even if I gave you the world."