The peace broke with a knock.
Not loud.
Not violent.
Just there — like the past tapping at the door it once owned.
Silas opened it slowly, his body tense and shirtless, a blade tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
But there was no one.
Only a single envelope, yellowing at the edges, laid gently on the doormat like a dead bird.
No address. No sender. Just one word across the front:
"TRAITOR."
---
Lucien read it aloud while Aaliyah stood frozen in the corner.
> "You think you've disappeared. But you forget whose blood you carry. You are not safe. She is not yours. You know how this ends."
There was more. Phrases carved in rage and rot:
> "One girl. Two monsters. This doesn't end in love — it ends in fire."
> "You took what wasn't yours. The price will be paid."
Lucien crumpled it with shaking hands.
But Silas… he was calm. Too calm.
His voice turned to ice.
"They found us."
---
That night, there were no soft touches.
Only locked doors, restless pacing, and loaded weapons on the table.
Lucien kept checking the windows.
Aaliyah barely spoke.
She tried to reach for them — but for the first time, both brothers pulled back, too haunted by a ghost they thought they'd buried.
---
Later, Silas sat beside her in bed.
He didn't touch her.
Just said, "If they come for us, you run. You don't look back."
And Aaliyah, barely above a whisper, replied:
"What if I'm tired of running?"
---