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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:MY BROTHER.
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2025-12-07 04:31:49MY BROTHER
If someone had told me a week ago that I had a hidden brother who’d been secretly trained by my grandparents like some sort of deluxe, limited-edition family heirloom, I’d have been convinced it was another level of bullying.
Possibly cried.
Definitely asked what brand of insanity they were drinking.
And yet.
Here I was, sitting at the long dining table in my grandparents’ mansion, sipping tea across from Elio while Grandma fussed over pastries like this was the most normal sibling breakfast in the world.
“Eat,” she insisted, sliding a plate toward him. “You’re too thin.”
“I’m not thin,” Elio protested.
“You are thin compared to when you were fifteen,” she replied sternly.
I glanced between them. “You compare everyone to when they were fifteen?”
“Yes,” Grandma said. “That’s when everyone ate properly.”
Elio leaned toward me and whispered, “She tried to feed me six breakfasts once.”
I almost snorted tea out of my nose.
This, whatever this was, felt dangerously close to perfect. Like the universe was daring me to enjoy it before pulling the rug out again.
Matteo sat at the head of the table, quiet as ever, reading a folder so thick it could double as a weapon. If paperwork were a sport, he’d be undefeated.
I eyed him warily. “Should I be worried about that file?”
“No,” he said without looking up.
That was not reassuring.
Elio nudged my foot lightly under the table. “He always says that.”
“People usually lie when they say that,” I muttered back.
He grinned. “In this house? Always.”
After breakfast, Grandma ushered Elio away for something she cryptically called “a proper welcome tour,” leaving Matteo and me alone in the dining room.
The silence crept in slowly.
I stared at my teacup. “You trained him.”
“Yes.”
“And hid him.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow expected me not to notice anything was off?” I raised a brow.
Matteo lowered his folder. “You are observant.”
“That’s one word for it.”
He studied me carefully. “You’re taking this well.”
I let out a breath. “Define well.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “You didn’t run.”
“Give it time.”
That earned a quiet chuckle, “You’re not your mother.”
I hesitated, then chose to avoid his intentional barb against his own daughter, “Why now?”
Matteo didn’t pretend not to understand.
“Because you are changing,” he said. “And so is the balance around you.”
My wolf stirred faintly, then settled again. Listening.
“You’ve always spoken in riddles,” I said. “It’s exhausting.”
He leaned back. “It keeps people alive.”
I frowned. “Including me?”
“Especially you.”
That was one bit comforting. My grandfather with his ridiculous riddles.
Later, Elio found me in the west hallway, examining a painting that looked suspiciously like one of my ancestors glaring judgmentally at generations yet to be born.
“This one hates me,” I told him solemnly.
Elio tilted his head. “Oh, that’s Aunt Sofia. She hated everyone.”
“Comforting.”
He crossed his arms. “Do you hate me?”
The question caught me off guard.
“No,” I said immediately. Then, more quietly, “I don’t think I ever could.”
Something warm flashed through his eyes. “Good.”
We walked together, the quiet easy now, like we were figuring out the rhythm of sibling hood without declaring it out loud.
“So,” I said, “secret training. What does that actually mean?”
He shrugged. “Control. Discipline. Defense. A lot of running.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“It was,” he said, then smiled. “But it kept me alive.”
We stopped near a window overlooking the inner grounds. Warriors sparred below. Normal pack life. Orderly. Calm.
Too calm.
“Elio,” I asked slowly, “did anything strange happen while I wasn’t here?”
“Define strange.”
I sighed. “That bad, huh?”
He met my eyes. “Not bad. Just complicated.”Of course.
Before I could push further, a bell rang. Low, resonant, vibrating through the mansion walls.
My stomach dipped.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Elio’s expression sharpened. “Council bell.”
“For what?”
He and I spoke at the same time.
“Emergency session.”
We stared at each other.
Matteo appeared in the doorway, expression unreadable.
“Both of you,” he said. “With me.”
As we followed him down the corridor, my wolf rose fully awake beneath my skin.
Whatever calm the house had wrapped around
us began to peel away, thread by thread.
And something told me, very clearly, that we would be getting new rogues that no-one could fake. Very soon.
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