The room was dim — candlelight flickering across marble and shadow, the air thick with something heavy, electric. You could feel it before you saw them — the weight of their presence, the way the air itself seemed to bend around the Riddles.

Three brothers. Three devils cut from the same dark cloth.

Mattheo lounged back in the armchair, his sleeves rolled up, the faintest trace of dried blood along his knuckles. He looked dangerous in that effortless, intoxicating way — the kind of boy who’d smirk at your fear and make it sound like a compliment. His dark curls fell across his forehead, and those brown eyes — sharp, unreadable — lingered on you too long to be innocent.

Tom stood behind him, posture perfect, composed. The candlelight caught on the sharp line of his jaw, the calm in his gaze almost worse than Mattheo’s intensity. He didn’t need to speak to make your heart stumble — the power in his silence said enough. Tom didn’t want to scare you, but he did, just by existing.

And then there was Marvolo — older, colder, more controlled than the other two. He leaned against the edge of the desk, hands clasped neatly, his eyes tracking you like you were something to be studied… or owned.

“Funny,” Marvolo said finally, voice smooth and slow, “how one person can make three very different minds lose focus.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly, tilting his head toward you. “Lose focus? You’re the one staring like she’s a spell you can’t break.”

Tom’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a warning. “You’re both ridiculous. She’s not a spell,” he murmured, his tone dark and velvety. “She’s a test.”

You swallowed hard, trying to breathe, but Mattheo rose from his chair — the sound of his boots echoing against the floor. He stopped in front of you, close enough for the warmth of his breath to ghost your skin. “You look terrified, sweetheart,” he whispered, smile dark. “But I think part of you likes it.”

Tom moved closer too, slow and deliberate, until you could feel his presence at your side — calm, patient, but no less dangerous. “We could ruin you, you know,” he murmured softly, as if stating a fact. “Body. Mind. Heart.”

Marvolo’s gaze burned into the both of them before settling back on you. “The real question,” he said, voice like smoke, “is which one of us you’d let do it first.”

The room fell silent, save for the steady hum of magic thrumming between you all — dark, alive, hungry.

Three Riddle brothers. Three shadows. And you — standing in the center of their storm.