Martina's house was a temple of icy elegance. White marble, minimalist lines, and a silence that felt almost claustrophobic. It was here that she had invited the three brothers, using the information gathered from Matt to manipulate them. Near, with his pale face and penetrating eyes, sat on a dark leather sofa, meticulously arranging his rag dolls. Matt stood nearby, hands in his pockets, his athletic physique sculpted beneath a black tank top. And behind him, a silent and tense figure hovered—S, the shadow from the motorcycle, who had not yet removed his helmet.
"So, have you settled in?" Martina asked, her voice a whisper of silk and poison. "It's strange to see you all here like this. Brothers, apparently."
Near looked up from his dolls. "Yes," he said, his voice a thread of calm. "We are brothers. Our surname is Juglian. Our father saved us."
Matt leaned against the wall, a bitter smile on his lips. "We were abandoned as children. Our father gave us a home, a family. He gave us a name. Juglian."
"And then another woman took us away," Near added, his eyes never leaving Martina's. "She said it was for our own good. But she only locked us up."
"Arius," Martina whispered, almost to herself. She finally had the name she was looking for—the missing piece of Juglian's past.
"Exactly," Matt said, his voice a restrained growl. "Once, we were a happy family. Then Arius ruined everything. She stole us from Juglian. She locked us in a world of rules and control, devoid of Juglian's love. But we escaped; we always searched for our father. We never stopped loving him."
Martina felt a cold shiver run down her spine. They were more dangerous than she had imagined. These weren't just spoiled boys; they were warriors forged in pain and devotion.
"And your companion?" Martina asked, looking toward S, who sat in a corner—a dark and mysterious figure. "Does he not speak?"
Matt smiled, a smile of compassion rather than joy. "He speaks, but not with words," he replied. "He is our shadow, our guardian."
S rose slowly and pulled off his helmet. Beneath it, his face was covered by a black mask that hid everything except his eyes. They were an unreal green—an emerald hue that seemed to absorb the light. He also wore a cap that hid his hair. His eyes locked onto Martina's. They were cold and calm, yet incredibly intense.
Martina felt a lump in her throat. This person—this boy or man—was an enigma. He didn't speak, but his eyes spoke for him. They were eyes that harbored a past of suffering and secrets.
"So," Martina said, her heart racing even as her voice remained like ice. "Are you here to destroy your father?"
"We won't destroy him," Matt replied, a shadow of anger crossing his face. "We will save him. And we will free him from you and all your tricks. You forced him to deny himself, to give up his true nature. We will help him reclaim it. We are his family."
Martina stood motionless. Her plan was one step from success, but she was no longer sure what that success looked like. The three brothers, their love for Juglian, the specter of Arius, and now the shadow of S—the masked boy who had somehow tracked down her address. The shadow of the past had returned, but it hadn't come for Juglian. It had come for Martina.