The room feels too small for all three of them.

Marvolo is the first to break the tension, his voice sharp with disbelief as he turns toward Tom. “You’re seriously going to let a girl get in between us? Between brothers?” He scoffs. “For Salazar’s sake, Tom.”

Tom doesn’t answer right away. He’s too still, shoulders squared, expression carved from something cold and deliberate. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm in the most dangerous way.

“She isn’t just a girl, Marvolo.” His eyes lift, dark and unwavering. “She is mine.”

The temperature seems to drop.

“And I suggest you stay the fuck away from her,” Tom continues, tone lowering, each word a warning carved in stone. “Because it will not end well for you next time.”

Marvolo lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “This is ridiculous. You know that, right?” He shakes his head as if Tom has lost all sense. “You’re acting like this is worth tearing blood apart.”

Before Tom can respond, Mattheo steps in, uneasy, trying to defuse something that’s already gone too far.

“He’s got a point, Tom,” Mattheo says carefully. “There’s no point in arguing over this. Not like this.”

Tom’s head snaps toward him.

“Not another word from you, Mattheo.” His voice is sharp now, edged with command. “Stay in your lane.”

The finality of it hits harder than a curse.

Marvolo stares at Tom for a long moment, jaw tight, eyes burning with something between anger and disappointment. Then he exhales through his nose, disgust plain on his face.

“Pathetic.”

He turns and walks away, leaving the word hanging in the air like a challenge.

Tom doesn’t move. He doesn’t chase him. He doesn’t react.

But the darkness around him hums, restless and alive, and Mattheo knows one thing for certain—

This isn’t over.