Mattheo slumps on the leather couch, arms flung over the back, hair disheveled, a vein in his temple threatening to burst. He looks like a man who’s just returned from battle—and maybe, in a way, he has.

Across from him, Draco smirks as he lifts his drink.

“So,” he says, eyeing Mattheo with that familiar look of smug amusement, “how’s my girl doing, Riddle?”

Mattheo groans, throwing his head back. “She’s too much, MaIfoy. Take her ba—”

Before he can finish the sentence, Tom—leaning against the stone pillar nearby with a book in one hand and eyes full of cold calculation—cuts him off.

“She’s fine with MaIfoy.”

His tone is final. The kind that shuts down conversations before they even start.

Mattheo blinks. “What?”

Tom doesn’t look up from his book. He turns a page slowly, then glances at his younger brother.

“I said,” he repeats, “she was fine with MaIfoy.”

The silence that follows is heavy—dangerous even.

Because everyone knows: Tom RiddIe doesn’t speak unless he means it. And you? You’ve somehow become the exception to every rule he ever swore by. Not just his distraction. His match.

You and Tom together aren’t just chaos.

You’re strategy and fire. Sharp tongues and sharper minds. An unstoppable force.

Mattheo mutters under his breath, “You two are insane.”

Tom finally looks up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re the one who said she was ‘too much.’”

Mattheo glares. “Because she is!”

He’s not wrong. Because whether the two of you are side by side in battle—or just plotting minor psychological warfare over breakfast—you’re in sync. And it’s terrifying. Brilliant. Addictive.

And no one, not even Mattheo or Draco, dares to get in the way. Because when you’re with Tom? You’re not just his girl. You’re his partner. His power. His equal.

And together, you don’t play by anyone’s rules but your own.