The announcement came over breakfast, casual but deliberate.

  “We’re hosting a dinner tonight,” Grabber said, setting his fork down with the kind of finality that brooked no argument. The scrape of silver against porcelain echoed in the quiet room. His voice was smooth, controlled, but his eyes flicked to me as if gauging my reaction. “There will be two guests.”

  The air shifted.

  Riven’s fork clattered against his plate, the sound sharp in the silence. He didn’t even bother to hide the scowl tugging at his mouth. “Two?” His tone was flat, unimpressed, but beneath it was a growl, like he already hated whatever this meant.

  Grabber didn’t waver. He never did. “My two brothers.”

  Thorne leaned back in his chair with a leisurely stretch, as though the tension in the room was entertainment for him. His grin was sharp enough to cut. “A party, then. How charming. Should I put on my best smile?”

  “You don’t have one,” Riven muttered darkly.

  “I can borrow yours,” Thorne shot back, flashing teeth.

  I blinked, my own fork hovering uselessly over my plate. “Guests?” The word felt foreign in this fortress of stone and secrecy, as though the outside world had no place crossing its threshold. “Like… people I haven’t already met?”

  Grabber’s lips curved faintly. Not warmth, not amusement, but something sharper. “You’ll behave.”

  Heat climbed my neck. I wasn’t sure if that was a warning or an expectation. Probably both.

  Bagel leapt onto the table with impeccable timing, padding through the plates until she sat squarely in front of me, her tail flicking in slow agitation. Her eyes fixed on Grabber as though she could read the edges of his intent better than I could.

  I stroked her back, trying to mask my unease. “And if I don’t?”

  That earned me a pause. The room stilled.

  Grabber tilted his head, considering me like one might a puzzle piece that had shifted unexpectedly. “Then,” he said, his tone deceptively calm, “you’ll learn why it’s better if you do.”

  Thorne chuckled under his breath, low and appreciative. Riven didn’t laugh. His gaze cut to me, sharp and warning, as though urging me not to push.

  The weight of it all pressed against my ribs, heavy and inevitable. Tonight wasn’t just dinner. Tonight was something else, something I was meant to endure, or perform, or survive.

  And all I could do was nod, Bagel’s steady presence anchoring me as the men went back to their food like nothing had shifted at all.

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  By the time the sun dipped low, the dining hall had been transformed. Candles cast golden pools across the long table, their flames caught in the polished curve of goblets and the gleam of silverware. The fire in the hearth threw shadows against the walls, and the air smelled of roasted meat, spiced wine, and anticipation.

  Bagel perched on my chair like a small, imperious queen, her ears twitching at every distant sound. She was alert in a way that made my chest tighten; if she was this unsettled, I should be too.

  The doors opened with a heavy groan, and laughter rolled into the hall before the guests even stepped inside.

  The first man who entered was tall and broad-shouldered, his eyes too similar to Grabber’s for me to ignore. His face was overtaken by a perpetual smirk that looked carved into his face. He looked me over with open curiosity, and I felt my spine straighten under the weight of it.

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  “Little brother,” he drawled, striding forward to clasp Grabber’s shoulder. Grabber didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened, and the tension told me the gesture was tolerated, not welcomed.

  Behind him entered a slightly smaller man, whose smile seemed practiced. His eyes seemed much softer than either of his brother’s, though.

  The air shifted. Even Bagel seemed to notice. She leapt into my lap, tail lashing, her ears pinned back as she let out a low meow.

  “This is Liora,” Grabber said smoothly when all eyes landed on me. His voice carried weight, command. Possessiveness.

  “And the cat,” Thorne added, smirking.

  Bagel meowed louder.

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  Dinner began. At first, the talk was ordinary enough: territories, exchanges, alliances built and broken. The language of strategy spoken beneath the cover of small talk. But beneath the civility ran a current of something darker, posturing, veiled threats, and too many eyes lingering on me.

  Grabber’s older brother, Raffiel, as I learned, was the first to direct attention my way. His questions came smooth, playful but probing: where I came from, how I found life here, whether I was “adjusting.” His smile was easy, almost disarming, but his eyes were sharp, glinting like a knife poised for a soft place.

  “I manage,” I said lightly, stroking Bagel’s fur to steady myself. She sat in my lap with her tail wrapped around her paws, staring at him unblinking, as if she saw something beneath his charming veneer.

  Raffiel laughed, low and rich. “Manage. Such a practical word. You must be very… adaptable.”

  “Shut up, Rafe.” Grabber said, sighing in frustration.

  Silence overtook the table for several moments before the next brother spoke.

  The man with the softer eyes, Kieran, was different from Raffiel. His questions weren’t laced with charm or innuendo. They were precise, dissecting: where had I lived before? How did I end up here? Did I know what it meant to remain unmarked? His tone was pleasant, patient, but it left me cold, like I was a riddle he intended to solve no matter how many layers he had to strip away.

  “Enough,” Grabber cut in at one point, his voice low and absolute. The table went quiet for a beat before conversation turned elsewhere, the current shifting but never losing its tension.

  Bagel chose that moment to hop lightly onto the table, planting herself between me and Raffiel’s too-close lean. She curled her tail around her paws and stared at him until his smirk faltered, just slightly.

  I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “She doesn’t take kindly to everyone.”

  Grabber’s mouth quirked, just a fraction. “Smart cat.”

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  It wasn’t until the wine flowed that the masks slipped further. Raffiel’s hand brushed against the back of my chair when he laughed at something Thorne said. Too casual. Too deliberate.

  Riven’s fork stilled mid-cut. His eyes snapped to the man’s hand, then to me. Not desire this time, jealousy, sharp and searing, like fire barely contained. His jaw ticked as though he was two heartbeats away from breaking the man’s wrist.

  Thorne noticed too, his grin tilting sharper. “Easy, Riven,” he drawled, his voice rich with mischief. “You’ll scare off our guests before dessert.”

  “Maybe that’s the point,” Riven said, his tone low and edged with steel.

  I shifted, uncomfortable under the sudden attention, and placed Bagel between me and Raffiel like a shield. The little cat rose onto her paws, arched her back, and hissed, her fur standing like bristles of lightning. Her yellow eyes didn’t waver from his hand.

  The room froze. The tension snapped taut, silencing conversation in a single breath. Even the fire seemed to hush.

  Then Kieran smiled faintly, swirling the wine in his glass as though he’d been waiting for this exact moment. “So protective,” he murmured, his words deliberate, heavy with meaning. “How… interesting.”

  Raffiel chuckled, raising his glass with lazy elegance. “Careful, Liora. Some men bite.”

  Before the unease could fester, Thorne leaned forward, his grin flashing wicked. “And some men bite harder.”

  That earned a startled laugh from me before I could stop it, heat blooming in my cheeks. The tension fractured, bursting into low, overlapping laughter around the table. Riven didn’t laugh, at least not right away, but after a beat, he gave a sharp exhale that passed for one, his gaze still locked on me, protective and unyielding.

  For a moment, the dinner felt lighter, though beneath the laughter I could still feel the edges of something jagged pressing close, hidden but sharp.

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  By the end of the night, I felt wrung out, pulled between sharp words, half-hidden intentions, and the storm simmering under my keepers’ skin. The guests left with promises of “seeing each other soon,” but I caught the flicker of unease in Grabber’s eyes as the doors closed.

  Bagel curled tight against me the moment the hall emptied, her purr rumbling like a warning. I stroked her fur, my heart still racing.

  Allies or enemies, I wasn’t sure which had just crossed the threshold. Maybe both.

  And worse, I wasn’t sure which frightened me more.