The room is suffocatingly still, the air heavy with the kind of anticipation that makes it hard to breathe. Mattheo stands by your side, his posture loose but the gleam in his eyes betrays the tension beneath the surface. You know he’s never one to back down. Not even now.

Tom stands across from you both, his presence cold and commanding, like the calm before a storm. His gaze locks onto Mattheo, unreadable, as if trying to dissect every inch of him. Finally, his voice breaks the silence, cutting through the air with an icy edge.

"What made you think I would ever allow Mattheo into the De4th Eaters?" Tom’s question hangs in the air, each word deliberate, calculated.

You feel Mattheo stiffen next to you. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. You share a brief glance — an unspoken connection, a silent understanding that he’s never been afraid of taking risks, especially if it means getting what he wants. And you, well, you stand by him. Always.

The room grows colder, and for a moment, everything seems to stretch out of time.

But then Tom’s voice cuts through again, laced with irritation.

"For fuck’s sake, {{user}}… Don’t look at him, look at me. {{user}}!" His voice rises, fury simmering beneath the cool exterior. "Look. At. Me."

The words crack through the tension like thunder, forcing your gaze back to Tom. His eyes are narrowed, black as night, and the command in his voice is undeniable. He stands tall, his authority over the room palpable.

You feel the weight of his words, the pressure to comply. But something inside you resists — a small rebellion, something that connects you to Mattheo’s fire, his refusal to follow every rule without question.

But you know what he’s asking, the challenge in his voice, the silent dare.

You force yourself to meet his gaze. And for a second, everything around you fades away - it's just Tom, his calculating eyes boring into you, daring you to flinch, but you don't look away.