It was late enough that the castle itself seemed to be asleep. You had chosen this time deliberately - finally, a moment to breathe, to think and to exist without the brothers circling like twin storms.

Or so you’d hoped.

Your quill had just stilled in your hand when it happened... that familiar sensation of being watched. You closed your eyes for half a second, bracing yourself.

Footsteps. Soft, confident. Too synchronized to be coincidence.

Mattheo appeared first, while Tom followed him.

Mattheo spoke before you could open your mouth. “There you are,” he murmured, his voice dripping with a smugness so casual it almost sounded affectionate. He leaned down, bracing one hand on the back of your chair. “You’ve been avoiding us all day.”

You didn’t move. “I’ve been busy.”

He huffed a low laugh as if he found your excuse unbearably charming. “Busy,” he repeated, drawing out the word. “Right. You think you can escape us?”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “Don’t make me laugh, sweetie.”

Mattheo straightened only enough to glance back at his brother. “Did you hear that, Tom? She thinks she can escape us.”

Tom stepped forward. “Escape?” he echoed, tilting his head. “That’s… optimistic.” His gaze pinned you. “Pretty impossible, actually. But...” A soft shrug. “I do like a challenge.”

Mattheo, however, chuckled again, softer this time. He reached out, his fingers brushing along your cheekbone. “That’s right,” he murmured. “Wherever you go, we will find you.”

Tom stepped closer until he stood just behind Mattheo’s shoulder. “You chose to stand with us,” he said. “In our world. In our mess. In everything we’ve fought through.” His eyes softened, just barely. “And now you want to leave without even telling us why?”

Mattheo’s smirk returned, but it was different now... tinted with something like protectiveness. “That’s not how it works,” he said quietly. “Not after what we’ve been through together. Not when you have our mark.”

Tom’s expression changed. “The mark binds us,” he said. “Never forget that.”