His voice was low, smooth, and venomous — the kind that made the air feel heavy.

He stepped closer, eyes glinting in the half-light.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, almost tender, almost cruel. “How silly of you to think I’d be any different than my brother.”

You froze, the faint curl of a smirk tugging at his lips as he studied the fear beginning to show in your eyes.

“You think I’m going to buy you flowers every day?” His tone mocked sweetness, each word sharper than the last. “You think I’m going to cook you soup when you’re sick? Cuddle you when you’re feeling lonely?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think — then laughed softly, humorless and dark.

“Aww… your delusions have finally hit their peak.”

He took another step forward until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“I wanted you,” he said simply, cold truth lacing every syllable. “I got you… for a distraction. You’re nothing more than that to me.”

You swallowed hard, the sting in your chest spreading like ice.

He smiled — slow, wicked, unbothered.

“And if you think he was bad…” He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper that sent a chill down your spine. “You’ll see worse.”

The silence that followed was almost louder than his words.