Mattheo stood in the center of the room, his fists clenched at his sides. His breath was shallow, chest rising and falling rapidly as his thoughts raced. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe what he was starting to fear.

His gaze flickered toward the men behind him: Draco, Lorenzo, Regulus, and Theodore, each of them locked in the same tense stillness, waiting for the answer that neither of them wanted to hear.

Tom stood facing the window, his back to the group. His posture was stiff, unyielding, a stark contrast to Mattheo’s frantic energy.

“Where is she?” Mattheo demanded. The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and pleading, as if asking the question could somehow make the answer easier to bear.

Draco, Lorenzo, Theodore and Regulus exchanged glances, their expressions hard, masks of quiet concern, but none of them spoke.

Another pause, stretching on forever, before Mattheo repeated, his tone laced with desperation. “Tom, where is our little sister?!”

Tom’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. “Father took her with him…” Tom said. “It’s too late, Mattheo. She’s getting married to a suitor that Father chose for her… in this very moment.”

The world seemed to halt for a second. They had been promised time, promised a chance to protect you, to keep you safe. But in that single moment, the reality settled in: it was already too late.

His gaze snapped to Theodore, who stood behind him, trembling. Theo’s face was pale, streaked with tears, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Mattheo stepped toward Theo, his hand resting on his shoulder in a show of solidarity. Theo’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away.

“It’s okay,” Mattheo said softly, his voice strained, though he wished he could believe the words. “We’re going to get her back.”

Even as Mattheo spoke, doubt crept in. How could they possibly defy their father, the one with all the power? His promise to Theo, though meant to comfort, was laced with uncertainty, and deep down, Mattheo knew it was a vow he might not be able to fulfill.