After Xander's sudden departure, Mason followed him, leaving me alone in the presence of Elijah and Cole. As Cole withdrew slightly from our embrace, his gaze fixated on me without a trace of shame. My brother. The familiar lump that formed in my throat was swallowed down, a mix of emotions swirling within me.

"So, that was, um..." I hesitated, trying to find the right words to break the tension.

"That was Xander," Cole interjected, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "My less-than-charming twin."

"Right," I replied, my self-consciousness still lingering. "Did I say something?"

"No, Maddie," Elijah chimed in from near the door, his voice soothing. "It's just an adjustment for him. Well, for all of us, but Xander has had a particularly difficult time with it."

"Oh." The realization slowly dawned on me. I hadn't fully grasped how deeply this situation had impacted them all. But as I recalled the photograph Mason had shared with me, the truth struck me. They remembered me, even when I couldn't recall them. Xander was just a boy back then. The weight of guilt settled in my chest. I instantly regretted my inability to remember them. I knew I was just a toddler, barely able to articulate my thoughts, but if I could remember something, anything, maybe I could connect with Xander a little better. Or connect at all would be a good start.

Elijah's gaze lingered on me before he approached and placed a hand on Cole's shoulder. "My turn, brother," he said softly.

"You had her yesterday," Cole argued.

"It was under less than ideal circumstances," Elijah responded, his tone gentle yet firm.

Cole huffed, a hint of possessiveness in his voice. "I want more time."

"You'll have the rest of our lives."

"I'm not a doll," I protested weakly, although I couldn't help but find their back and forth endearing. My stomach fluttered at the realization that they were arguing over spending time with me. It was... sweet .

Cole turned and flashed me a mischievous grin, his hands cupping my cheeks and playfully squishing them together. "But you are," he teased, his eyes dancing with affection.

I couldn't help but grimace in protest, sticking my tongue out. However, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Cole possessed that unique quality—the ability to spread laughter even in the face of tragedy. It was a stretch, but I'd go so far as to say he could make Snape himself crack a smile.

"Bad baby," Cole teased, squishing my cheeks until I resembled something akin to a blobfish.

"Cole," Elijah warned, though I could see a glimmer of amusement in his emerald eyes.

"I'm going," Cole rolled his eyes, rising to his feet. "Are you coming downstairs for dinner, Maddie?"

"Can you bring it upstairs?" Elijah responded on my behalf. "Then she can get some more rest."

"Good thing she's awake so she can decide for herself," Cole remarked, casting me a playful wink.

Caught between their gazes, I felt the weight of decision-making press upon me. I never enjoyed making choices, but I also didn't want to miss out on anything by returning to sleep. Besides, it hadn't been long enough, and the thought of slipping back into the nightmare I had just escaped from sent shivers down my spine.

"Maddie?" Elijah's gentle voice broke through my contemplation.

"I think I want to go downstairs," I murmured softly. "If that's alright?"

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" he inquired, concern etched in his features.

I nodded, mustering my resolve. "Don't I have more brothers to meet anyway? Mason mentioned I had six."

Elijah's eyes softened, filled with tenderness. "Harley is still on his way back from the airport, so for now, it's only Blake."

"Blake?" I repeated, the name carrying a curious weight.

He hummed in acknowledgment, but a trace of reluctance seemed to linger in his voice.

"Can I meet him?" I asked, a tinge of eagerness coloring my words.

Cole and Elijah shared a look.

My brother regarded me closely and carefully. It was then that I noticed the similarities between my two eldest brothers—god, that word would take a while to get used to—they were both painfully observant, unafraid to stare into your soul.

"I mean, only if he wants to see me," I added hesitantly.

"Of course, Maddie," Elijah reassured me, his voice laced with warmth. "I just don't want him inadvertently upsetting you."

"Why would he upset me?" I asked quietly.

"Blake is, well, he speaks his mind."

Cole choked on a laugh, "That's one way to put it."

"That's not a bad thing," I mumbled, strangely defending this brother I'd never even met. I kind of preferred people who spoke their mind anyway, who didn't beat around the bush, as it meant you didn't have to constantly second guess what they were thinking.

But Elijah didn't seem to agree; his absentmindedly stroking hand stilled, and his brows furrowed slightly in concern.

"I can handle it," I said quietly, trying to reassure him.

Elijah's gaze softened, and he tenderly reached up, caressing my cheek with his knuckles. "Of course you can, Bambina."

In that moment, he reminded me of Mum, and not just in those kind, green eyes. But in his voice, his tenderness, the gentle way he treated me. In the way I felt like I could conquer the world with either of them by my side. I lowered my head, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions.

"What are you thinking?" Elijah's voice pierced the silence.

I shrugged, uncertainty lingering within me. He patiently waited, granting me the space to gather my thoughts.

"I was just thinking about how twenty-four hours ago, I didn't even know you existed, all I had was mum, and now... well, now, I don't know."

"Overwhelming?" he offered, understanding threading through his words.

"A little bit."

Elijah appeared on the verge of saying something, but his phone buzzed, drawing his attention. A tinge of regret tainted his expression.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I need to speak to Mason. Are you happy going down to dinner with Cole?"

I gave a hesitant nod, but my nerves subtly dancing beneath the surface. Elijah had become my safety blanket in the whirlwind of these past twenty four hours, and despite Cole's friendly nature, there was an aura of security that radiated from Elijah, which couldn't be replicated.

His gentle touch brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I'll come and see you in a little bit," he murmured.

And just like that, he vanished, leaving behind a palpable void in his wake.

"Come on, baby. It's just you and me." Cole's smile graced his lips, warm and inviting. "How about changing into something more comfy?" He added, looking down at my torn tee and shorts.

I followed his gaze and couldn't help but wince. My knees were evidence of the recent ordeal, tightly bandaged and cleaned, similar to my scraped hands and arms. However, my t-shirt and shorts told a different tale, still bearing the rips and dirt of the haunting memory.

"Sure," I said. I had to press back the nausea when I remembered choosing those beach clothes yesterday morning in our cottage. A thought struck me. "But, I, um, I don't have my clothes."

Cole was quick to jump in, "Don't worry, Luke's sorting it. But I'll grab you something for now."

He left before I could utter a single word and returned less than a minute later, before I even had the opportunity to dwell on his sudden exit. In his hands were three - three? - t-shirts and a pair of gray joggers.

He stood before me, presenting the clothes as if he were Miranda Priestly from one of my beloved films. The identical tees dangled before my eyes like models on a fashion runway.

"Now we have white, black, or gray—quite the tough decision, I know," he offered, his voice filled with a playful tone. He held up each tee, as if seeking my opinion. "I'm personally more partial to white, but perhaps the- no," he remarked, his gaze fixed on me, "you're looking at the black, aren't you?"

I couldn't help but crack a smile. "I'm a bit clumsy," I confessed.

The understatement of the century. White garments seemed to always attract spills in my presence. White tops became a canvas for tomato pasta or orange juice, and white jeans never didn't end up with grass stains from waist to hem.

"Ah, some things never change," he replied, a grin stretching across his face. "Let's compromise on the gray, then. Head into the bathroom and put them on. I'll be right outside."

He handed me the soft gray top and matching joggers, guiding me toward the door on the opposite side of the room. My legs quivered slightly when I stood, but I managed to travel the distance unassisted. Go, me.

Stepping into the room, I paused for a moment, taking in the sight that greeted me. It was no ordinary bathroom; it was freaking huge, like... I don't know, roman baths? The large shower stood separate from the deep wide tub that looked as if it had been designed specifically for relaxing with a book in after a long day. The surfaces sparkled with marble, and was that a heated towel rail? As much as I craved a shower at that moment, the fatigue gnawed at me. Besides, Cole was waiting, and the burning curiosity to meet my final brothers consumed me.

I slipped the oversized tee over my head, its length cascading well past my knees, engulfing my vertically challenged frame. The fabric was impossibly soft, cocooning me in its embrace. And there was a faint, almost elusive scent clinging to it, one that I found embarrassingly reassuring. It smelt like home. Confusing as it was, I welcomed it. As for the joggers, well, despite being undeniably comfortable, I had to cinch the drawstring tightly and knot it in a determined bow just to keep them from slipping down.

Stepping out of the bathroom, a sudden wave of shyness washed over me. I noticed Cole, now seated on my bed, his hands deftly toying with my phone, plugged into some sort of iPad. He glanced up, a wide grin stretching across his face.

"Well, isn't that a pretty dress on you," he teased, standing up and walking over to me.

"It's not my fault I'm short," I mumbled.

"No, all the easier for picking you up and putting you in my pocket," he teased, picking me up by the waist and spinning me around.

"Coleee," I whined, feigning protest.

"Maddieee," he countered, matching my playful tone.

"Is that my phone?" I inquired, casting my gaze downward to the device clutched in his hand. There was no mistaking it—it was mine.

"This?" he said, inspecting it with disdain. "No way—I wouldn't even wish this phone on my worst enemy," he scoffed, slipping it into his pocket.

"Hey!" I protested.

"Maddie, it's practically as useless as a cracked, barely functioning brick," he remarked dismissively.

"It doesn't turn on?!"

"It shouldn't," he rolled his eyes. "Besides, I've already backed up everything on my iPad. There wasn't much on there to begin with."

"Ah, that explains it. Now, are you ready to go?" he asked, sidestepping the phone topic.

"What about my phone? Can I use it until I find a way to get it fixed?"

"Honestly, it's more likely to spontaneously combust than to be repaired. We'll get you a new one," he said simply.

"You can't just get me a new phone!"

"Of course we can."

"You can't. It's too much," I argued.

"Don't be silly," he reassured. "But I'll grab you a spare until we do," he added. With purposeful strides, he headed towards the door. "Are you coming?" he called over his shoulder.

Like a loyal companion, I obediently followed. "A spare phone?" I murmured, my mind struggling to comprehend the concept of having spare devices readily available.

"Of course," he affirmed with a knowing smile.

I blinked in disbelief. Did ordinary people truly keep spare phones on hand, as if they were mere accessories?

Following Cole, I descended the winding staircase, my hand grazing the smooth surface of the polished wooden banister. It felt like a scene plucked from the silver screen, as if I were the protagonist off to her first prom. However, the joggers and a tee I wore seemed slightly out of place amidst the grandeur that unfolded before me.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I found myself standing in a grand foyer that exceeded even my wildest expectations. The chilling events that had unfolded had led my mind to conjure up visions of a dark and dusty cellar, but instead, I was greeted by a space of expansive beauty. Bathed in an inviting off-white hue, the entryway emanated a sense of warmth and comfort.

Leading me through the foyer, Cole guided me through a living room that seemed to whisper of elegance and comfort, before arriving at a sprawling open-plan kitchen. He effortlessly navigated through the space, sparing little time in each room to appreciate its splendor, his familiarity and comfort with his home strikingly apparent.

The kitchen, a culinary paradise, boasted a collection of gadgets and devices that would make any chef's heart skip a beat. Countertops stretched endlessly. It was a haven that my mother would have cherished. The image of her lively presence cooking away by the oven whilst entertaining guests with her sweet laugh flickered through my mind, a bittersweet reminder of the void she left behind. I took a deep breath, suppressing the wave of grief that threatened to engulf me.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I perched on one of eight seats that Cole guided me too, whilst he walked over to the large, steaming pot on the stove.

"Ready for some heavenly pasta, my dear?" he inquired, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, as he placed a steaming plate of savory tomato and cheese pasta in front of me. Comfort food at its finest.

"Looks amazing," I responded, beaming with delight, "thank you."

Just I raised the first forkful to my lips, two distinct voices emerged from around the corner, their words slicing through the tranquility of the moment.

"-not going to fucking forget that we barely know her," a deep voice resonated, reminiscent of cars crunching on gravel, quiet and menacing.

Before I could process the emotions, the corner turned, and a new figure joined Xander, causing me to freeze in my seat. God, I had never encountered someone quite like him before. If I had been standing, my legs would have locked out from fright. He exuded an aura of intimidation that was palpable. Clad in joggers similar to mine and a white vest that exposed intricate tattoos adorning his arms and neck, he seemed like a force to be reckoned with. I couldn't help but gulp, sensing that crossing paths with this imposing man would be ill-advised.

"Well, after your lovely words, brother," Cole's voice carried a hint of contempt beneath his playful tone, "This is Maddie."

"I can see that."

He cast a scrutinizing gaze upon me, his piercing assessment causing an uncomfortable squirm within me, as if he was assessing my deepest vulnerabilities ready to use them.

"Hi," I managed to mutter, my voice barely audible amidst the charged atmosphere, before gulping down a mouthful of the cheesy pasta so I didn't have to face him.

He merely grunted in response, moving past me with an air of intimidation to fetch a glass from the cabinet. He poured himself some water and leaned against the cabinets, exuding an effortless aura of nonchalance.

"Ignore the caveman," Cole interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension.

Xander still regarded me from the kitchen entrance, his gaze assessing me, intense enough to make me avert my eyes, feeling a tinge of discomfort in his presence. Was there something wrong with me? What I was wearing?

Xander and Blake were certainly not in a talkative mood today.

"Harley should be back soon," Cole interjected, breaking the oppressive silence. "He's a lot nicer than these ones, Mads."

"Fuck off," Xander curtly replied.

"Charming," Cole retorted.

"Dickhead."

"Asshole."

"Nice pasta," I spoke up, seeking to alleviate the tension. Confrontation was not my forte, so a feeble attempt to divert attention from the strained atmosphere seemed like a reasonable strategy.

What I hadn't anticipated was all three men turning to me, their expressions mildly amused -except Blake, who simply regarded me with a raised eyebrow. A flush crept up my cheeks in response to their gaze.

"Elijah's work," Cole laughed.

"Oh, does he cook a lot then?" I asked, as I took another bite, attempting to maintain a semblance of conversation.

"Sure, quite a bit," Cole replied with a casual shrug.

"Is he a chef, then?"

Xander snorted a laugh from where he was stood.

"His ego doesn't need any more boosting," Cole replied, a mischievous smirk gracing his lips. "But no, although he been cooking more lately since Gio started taking more breaks."

"Who's Gio?"

"Our chef."

"Your chef?" I asked in disbelief.

"Indeed."

"And do you have a pet pony too?" I teased.

"Hm, not yet," Cole said seriously, "but if you want a pony, I'm sure that can be arranged."

"Oh, um, no thanks," I stammered, feeling an awkward tension fill the air. Of course, they had a chef. They lived in a castle, after all. They probably had servants and a stable full of pink unicorns since they were four. Focus, Maddie. "So, um, what does he do then?"

"Gio?"

"Elijah," I quickly clarified. "Because if he's not a chef, he should open an Italian restaurant. I would be a regular customer," I rambled, aware that I was veering into nervous territory, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. "Especially if he cooks like this because pasta, well, Italian food, is definitely my favorite. Do you guys have favorite foods, or-"

"Do you always talk this much?" Blake's sharp voice cut in, his watchful gray eyes analysing my every move.

"Sorry," I whispered, feeling a pang of self-consciousness as his earlier words resurfaced.

"Now you've done it," Cole groaned, casting a reproachful glance at Blake. Then, he turned his attention back to my half-empty bowl, which I had pushed away as my hunger waned. "Finished?"

"Hmm," I murmured, guilt washing over me for not finishing my meal. "It was great, just not very hungry anymore."

Especially not now, anyway, with Blake's presence draining my appetite.

Understanding, Cole nodded and swiftly collected my plate. "I can take care of it," I offered weakly, watching as he placed it in the dishwasher.

"Look at you, trying to impress our baby sis by cleaning up after yourself," Xander remarked with a smirk.

I refrained from pointing out that placing a bowl in the dishwasher hardly counted as cleaning up.

"Of course," Cole grinned, playing along. "Can't have her running away when she sees what a slob you are."

Xander simply rolled his emerald eyes, and then our gazes met. He blinked. "I'm going to the gym," he declared, making a swift exit, without another word.

A twinge of regret washed over me, and a sinking feeling settled in as I realized once again that I had done something wrong. Why did Blake and Xander seem repulsed by my presence? It was as if they couldn't stand to be around me. We had been siblings long ago, but now we were practically strangers.

"Maybe I should leave too," I suggested quietly. It seemed safer up in my bedroom, where I knew the only people who would be there would be the people who genuinely wanted me around, like Elly, and perhaps Cole and Elijah.

"Just ignore the jerk, Maddie," Cole's hand squeezed my shoulder as he came up behind me. "This is your home too."

When my gaze accidentally met Blake's, for a moment, I thought I detected a hint of regret. But if I did, it was gone in an instint, and it was most likely wishful thinking anyway.

And in that fleeting moment, before my thoughts could fully materialize, the slamming of the door reverberated through the house, jolting me back to reality like an electric shock coursing through my veins.

"I'm home!"

That voice, infused with an inexplicable, yet familiar magnetism, compelled me to sit up straight, my senses awakening with a jolt.

"In the kitchen!" Cole's voice rang out, accompanied by a fleeting glance in my direction.

Footsteps echoed, growing louder and closer with each passing moment, until a man turned the corner, causing an unintentional yet warranted gasp to escape my lips. Time stood still as my eyes locked with his.

In that instant, everything clicked into place within my mind. The strands of chestnut hair, the hue of his eyes, the dimples gracing his cheeks, his towering presence exuding an aura of comfort and reassurance—I knew this man.

"You're Harley?" I uttered, my voice barely audible, rising from my chair as if propelled by an unseen force, stopping a few paces away from my brother.

A heavy silence hung in the air as he regarded me, a blend of surprise and familiarity etched upon his features. He was the man who had visited me in a dream the night before—or rather, a memory. A memory most likely triggered by the sight of his name on the birth certificate. He was the same man who had graced my sixth birthday at the trampoline park.

"Maddie," he breathed, his voice as gentle as a lullaby. "I thought you'd be upstairs."

Yes, his voice definitely possessed the same gentle cadence that could lull one to sleep or coax a hesitant child down from the heights of a climbing frame.

"What does she mean, 'you're Harley'?" Blake interjected, his eyes now sharp and vigilant.

I disregarded Blake's presence entirely as my mind roamed, piecing together the fragments. This man before me was not just the stranger from the trampoline park; he was also our substitute teacher from years ago, the one who occasionally stepped in to teach Biology when Mrs. Harris was away. The same teacher who had always shown me favoritism, treating me with kindness and attention. My throat tightened at the memories.

"Substitute teacher?" Blake seethed, his eyes darting between Harley and me as if witnessing a heated tennis match.

"My substitute teacher. And the man from the trampoline park, that was you," I blurted, seeking validation desperately, barely aware of the others in the room or that I was speaking out loud, my gaze fixed entirely on my long-lost brother. My guardian angel.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Blake's form tensing as he pushed himself off the sideboard, muscles coiling with intensity as he glared at Harley.

"Um, Maddie, perhaps we should talk privately," Harley began, apprehension permeating his voice.

Blake advanced, interrupting him with a venomous bite in his tone. "No, please, share with the class."

"Baby, why don't you come back here?" Cole interjected, walking over and placing his hands on my shoulders, attempting to steady me.

"How did she recognize you?" Blake demanded, and as he entered my line of sight, I snapped back to reality, witnessing the anger radiating from him in palpable crimson waves. Suddenly, a twinge of fear gripped me. He looked... furious.

Harley's gaze darted everywhere but Blake's piercing eyes.

"Fucking answer me!" In an instant, Blake had Harley pinned against the wall by his shoulder, fury rippling through his every word.

Startled and confused by the sudden violence, I let out a yelp. I couldn't comprehend the situation fully, but the realization that my brother was in danger ignited a fierce protectiveness within me. Stepping forward instinctively, I called out, "Stop!"

But Cole's grip on my shoulder tightened, restraining me in place.

"Don't intervene, Maddie," he whispered.

"Stop them then!" I turned to Cole, pleading with my eyes. His eyes clouded, and he averted his gaze. "Blake!" I called out.

"Silence," he snapped in my direction, his anger pulsating through his words, his entire demeanor radiating a dangerous intensity. Fear gnawed at me as I realized he looked... furious.

When Harley remained silent, Blake shook him vigorously. "Dimmi che mi sbaglio cazzo!" he bellowed.

"He didn't do anything!" I cried.

Just as Cole was about to say something, his voice was drowned out by a voice I never wanted to hear again, spoken in that deadly tone.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

A heavy silence descended upon the room, and even Blake ceased his aggression as Mason appeared around the corner, accompanied by Elijah. Whether it was their own accord or the sheer deadly force of Mason's voice that turned us all to stone, I couldn't tell. His presence commanded attention, capable of instigating a battle or demanding an immediate ceasefire.

"Blake," Mason's voice rumbled like distant thunder, low and threatening. "Stand down."

Blake's hand remained pressed against Harley, his eyes fierce like daggers.

"Now," the command was clear and unwavering, leaving no room for defiance.

Reluctantly, Blake released his hold on Harley, albeit with a clenched fist by his side that betrayed his surrender. The latter shrugged off the weight with a wince, taking a cautious yet sensible step back.

"Explain," Mason's tone left no room for ambiguity.

Elijah, having made his way to my side, assessed me with his understanding gaze. Sensing my distress that was slowly escalating, he assumed Cole's position, offering me comfort, his gentle touch tracing soothing circles on my shoulders.

"This bastard went to see Maddie while she was with Abigail," Blake's concise words dripped with anger.

The weight of his statement eluded my understanding, but to everyone else, it seemed to strike a deep chord. Elijah's hand froze on my shoulder, his tension palpable. As for Mason, his blue eyes darkened, if that was even possible, turning jet black as he absorbed Blake's words. His body stiffened, and he focused his attention on the accused brother.

"Is this true?" Mason's voice remained low, his words laden with an unspoken threat.

"I was cautious," Harley admitted softly.

"You stronzo," Blake spat, his voice dripping with contempt as he took a menacing step forward, poised to strike. But before his fury could manifest into violence, Mason's outstretched arm intercepted, halting him in his tracks like an immovable barrier.

"Quiet," Mason commanded, his voice an icy whip.

Why was everyone so angry with Harley? Confusion clouded my mind as I looked up at Elijah, my eyes filled with questions. His gentle gaze met mine, brimming with sympathy.

"It's okay," Elijah whispered, before directing his words at Mason. "She doesn't need to stay for this, I'm taking her upstairs."

"Not yet," was Mason's order.

Then, he turned his attention to me, piercing me with those dark eyes I wished to avoid. Apart from the moment he drugged me, I hadn't seen this side of him. It was as if he had flipped a switch. When we were alone, like earlier, he became a different person—a brother. But now, he appeared as judge, jury, and executioner, and I found myself on trial.

"How do you recognize him, Maddie?" he inquired.

Feeling the weight of all five pairs of eyes on me, and secretly grateful Xander wasn't present, I was still on the verge of losing my composure.

"I-I don't," I stammered, unwilling to implicate him and cause trouble. "It was a mistake."

"She's lying," Blake interjected, venom dripping from his words. "He was her goddamn teacher."

"I... I didn't realize. He didn't do anything wrong," I defended, tears welling up silently in my eyes. This wasn't how I had envisioned this day unfolding.

"Like fuck he didn't! He nearly got you kil-"

"Out," Mason's command sliced through the air, freezing the room in an instant.

"Are you really okay with this? He could have been the reason they found her in the first place! He could be the reason Abigail is—" Blake's words were cut off abruptly by Mason's unwavering final warning, dripping with authority nobody could deny.

"Now."

A tense standoff ensued, but when it came to a battle of wills, Mason took no prisoners. With the sheer force of his gaze, he practically compelled Blake to depart, leaving behind a deadly silence.

Now, with the remaining four calmer brothers in the room, the atmosphere lost its charged electricity, replaced by an unsettling stillness.

"Harley?" Mason's voice broke the silence, his tone tinged with a mixture of curiosity and resignation.

"Her sixth birthday," he admitted, his voice a quiet confession. "Then again when she started year seven."

Mason closed his eyes, a deep breath filling his lungs as if trying to steady himself amidst the revelations. "When you were on the DWA project in Angola," he pieced together.

"You remember that?" Harley said quietly.

"I don't forget when my twenty-year-old brother travels halfway across the world on a humanitarian mission in Africa."

I saw Harley visibly gulp. "When I told you I'd be a few extra months... I went... I-"

"You were in Kent, keeping an eye on Maddie," Elijah supplied helpfully, taking pity on his younger brother.

"I flew commercial under a different name to be safe. It's why you wouldn't have known."

He shook his head, regretfully. "We should have kept a closer eye on you. You always acted so much older."

"Its not on you, Elijah. I just needed to see her with my own eyes." A touch of vulnerability seeped into his words.

"Don't you think we all did?"

Then why didn't you? The words on the top of the tongue but I held them back.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, remorse lacing his words. "I know it was stupid, but I couldn't stop myself," then he turned to our oldest brother, who had been silent but no less than powerful than before.. "Mason, your updates every other year from Abigail weren't enough. I needed to see her."

Mason's gaze was piercing, his eyes deep and shadowed, offering nothing but an icy front. His gaze then shifted to Cole.

"And you?"

"Me?" Cole choked out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Are you keeping his secret, or did you join him?"

"Don't be angry with him," Harley swiftly defended his younger brother. "He didn't come. He knew, but I persuaded him to keep quiet."

"I wanted to see her too, but it would have been too obvious. So, I let Harley go and settled for hearing she was okay," Cole explained.

Mason placed his fingers on the bridge of his nose and released a sigh, heavy with frustration and exasperation. "The one rule... Do you two have any idea..."

"Mason," Elijah interrupted, looking at me pointedly.

"Take her up to bed," he replied, laced with a mask of indifference that struck me in the centre. "I'll send Harley up in an hour."

"Wait," I spoke up quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, halting our departure as Elijah prepared to guide me upstairs, obediently following Mason's orders.

Mason's eyebrow raised slightly, a flicker of curiosity glimmering in his eyes, but he didn't object, granting me a silent permission to continue.

Walking over to Harley, intentionally passing by my eldest brother with a little more distance, I stood before Harley, locking eyes with him for a lingering moment, a myriad of emotions swirling within me.

"You're really Harley?" I uttered softly, not quite trusting myself in the state of exhaustion I was in.

He looked down at me, his gaze filled with an undeniable brotherly affection, and offered a short nod.

"Thanks for looking out for me," I whispered, my words laden with genuine gratitude.

While I hadn't intended to make my other brothers feel guilty, a nagging question tugged at my weary mind. Why hadn't my other brothers visited me?

Harley's eyes glistened with unshed tears as I embraced him, his touch gentle as his fingers found solace in the strands of my hair, a silent reassurance coursing through our connection.

The sound of Mason clearing his throat interrupted our poignant reunion.

Reluctantly, I pulled away, allowing Elijah to guide me upstairs. As we ascended, the weight of realization settled upon me. Slipping back into this new - yet old - life, wouldn't be quite as easy as I had expected.