The corridor outside the dungeon is dim, torches flickering low as detention finally ends.

You’re halfway down the hall when you hear it.

Your name.

Not spoken.

Claimed.

Mattheo’s boots hit the stone hard as he steps in front of you, blocking your path. His jaw is tight, eyes dark with something reckless and raw.

You enjoyed that. Didn’t you.

You raise a brow, unfazed. Enjoyed what?

Don’t play dumb. The way you looked at him. The way you stood so close.

Before you can answer, another presence slides into the space like a shadow.

Tom.

Calm. Controlled. Dangerous.

He doesn’t block you. He stands beside you. Close enough that his sleeve brushes yours, deliberate and unbothered.

She’s allowed to stand wherever she likes, Matthew.

Mattheo’s lips curl. Funny. I don’t remember asking you.

Tom turns his head slowly, eyes locking with his brother’s. You can feel the air tighten, magic pressing against your skin.

You’re far too emotional lately, Tom says coolly. It makes you sloppy.

Mattheo steps closer. Say that again.

You shift slightly, caught between them. Boys—

Mattheo ignores you. You think because you don’t raise your voice you’re somehow above this? He laughs, sharp. She’s not some chess piece you get to quietly slide into position.

Tom’s gaze flicks to you briefly. Then back.

If she were a piece, he says softly, she’d be the one ending the game.

Mattheo’s wand is suddenly in his hand.

Tom doesn’t draw his.

You shouldn’t be involving her in your… obsessions, Mattheo continues, voice low. You burn through things. People.

A flash of something dark crosses Tom’s face.

Careful, he warns. You’re projecting.

You step forward before sparks actually fly. Enough.

Both of them freeze.

You look at Mattheo first. You don’t get to decide who looks at me.

Then Tom. And you don’t get to decide what I am.

The silence that follows is lethal.

Mattheo exhales through his nose, eyes never leaving Tom. You think you’ve already won.

Tom’s voice drops, almost intimate. No. I think she hasn’t chosen yet.

Mattheo smiles, slow and dangerous. Then maybe you should stop acting like you already own her.

Tom leans in just enough for only Mattheo to hear.

I never act without certainty.

Magic hums.

You step back, heart pounding. If either of you hexes the other I swear—

Mattheo glances at you, something soft breaking through his anger for half a second.

Relax, Trouble. I wouldn’t hurt him.

Tom’s lips twitch.

Not where she could see.

Your breath catches.

The bell tolls in the distance.

Tom steps back first, smoothing his cuffs like nothing happened. His eyes linger on you.

Choose wisely.

Mattheo waits until Tom disappears into the shadows.

Then he turns to you.

Tell me, he says quietly. Did he look at you like he already had you?

You don’t answer.

And that silence?

That’s what starts the war.