Bella's POV
The silence after Christian's confession was louder than a hundred screams.
It pressed against my chest, heavy and suffocating, until I felt like I might shatter if I breathed too hard. I curled deeper into the velvet couch in the main hall, my fingers digging into the fabric as if I could anchor myself to something real. The chandelier above us bathed the room in golden light, but inside me, everything was cold. Empty.
Crystal paced the length of the hall like a caged animal, boots striking marble with sharp, angry echoes. Christian leaned against the mantle, arms crossed, his face half-shadowed, eyes unreadable.
They weren't just standing there.
They were watching me.
Studying me.
Waiting for my reaction.
"You don't trust us anymore," Christian finally said. His voice was low, almost wounded.
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Trust? You want to talk about trust? You lied to me for months. You made me carry pain that wasn't even mine. You let me believe Anthony's betrayal was personal. You put me in chains without ever touching iron."
Crystal stopped pacing so suddenly the room seemed to freeze with him. "Enough with this self-righteous act," he snapped. "You wouldn't last a day in this world if it weren't for us. You think you can handle betrayal, blood, enemies? You're soft, Bella. That's why we kept the truth from you."
Something inside me snapped.
I stood slowly, every inch of Queen Bella rising from the ashes of the girl they thought they still owned. "Soft?" I repeated, my voice deadly calm. "I survived abuse. I survived being kidnapped. I survived being raped while you two were too busy playing kings of the underworld. Don't you dare call me soft."
The words hit Crystal like a bullet.
For once, he had no comeback. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkening, something like guilt flickering beneath his rage before disappearing behind his usual arrogance.
Christian pushed off the mantle and took a step toward me, his tone softer. "Bella… we didn't mean to break your trust. We just—" He hesitated, searching for words. "We love you. Too much. Enough to keep you in the dark if it meant keeping you safe."
Safe.
That word again.
"Safe?" I hissed. "Safe from who? From Anthony? Or from you?"
Crystal moved before I could step away. His hand wrapped around my wrist, grip tight, possessive, burning. "You're not leaving us. Do you hear me? I don't care how angry you are. You're ours. You've always been ours."
My heart pounded, fury and fear twisting together. "Let me go, Crystal," I warned, my voice shaking—not with weakness, but with restraint.
Christian's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Crystal. Let her go."
For a long, dangerous heartbeat, he didn't move. His grip tightened, his eyes daring Christian to challenge him. Then, with a frustrated growl, he released me and stalked toward the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey like he needed to drown his fury in fire.
Christian stayed close, not touching me, but near enough that his presence wrapped around me like invisible chains. "Bella," he whispered. "Don't push us away. Please. Whatever Anthony told you… whatever doubts you have… he's using you. Don't let him. Stay with us. Trust us."
Trust.
Love.
Safety.
Their words wrapped around me like vines—sweet, tight, poisonous.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to believe them.
I wanted to run.
But more than anything… I wanted the truth.
And I wasn't sure these brothers would ever give it to me willingly.
So maybe it was time I took it for myself.
Christian's POV
The moment Bella stormed out of the room, leaving silence and broken air behind her, I knew Crystal was about to explode.
He hurled his glass against the wall. It shattered, whiskey dripping down like liquid fire. "She's slipping through our fingers, Chris. And you're just standing there like some lovesick puppy."
I clenched my jaw, my hands curling into fists. "I'm standing here because one of us has to think straight. Do you even hear yourself? You scare her, Crystal. Every time you try to cage her, you push her further away."
He spun on me, eyes burning. "And you think she'll come running back to you because you play the soft saint? Wake up, brother! She doesn't need comfort—she needs control. She needs to know we own her, or she'll walk away."
"Own her?" I repeated, disgust rising in my chest. "She's not property. She's not a trophy for your ego. She's Bella. And if we don't start treating her like she matters, we will lose her."
He laughed, harsh and bitter. "Lose her? She's already gone. You saw the way she looked at me—like I was the enemy. Like she'd rather run to Anthony than stay with us."
The mention of Anthony made my blood boil. That man's shadow poisoned everything.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "And whose fault is that? Yours. You always swing first, always let anger lead. You hit her. You left her bleeding. Do you think she'll forget that?"
For just a second—just a flicker—Crystal flinched.
Guilt.
But he buried it under rage. "Don't put this all on me! You're no saint either. You're the one who let her out of your sight. You're the one who stood by while Anthony toyed with her. You failed her too."
His words cut deep. Because they were true.
I grabbed his collar, pulling him close. "Listen to me. You want to fight me? Fine. But if you push her any further, you won't just be fighting me—you'll be fighting to keep her alive."
For a moment, I thought he'd swing. His fists trembled. His jaw clenched.
Then he shoved me away and turned his back. "We can't let her go, Christian. I won't. I don't care what it costs."
Neither would I.
But the difference between us was clear.
Crystal wanted to chain her.
I wanted to shield her.
Either way, Bella was trapped between two brothers who would rather burn the world than let her slip away.
And somewhere in the shadows, Anthony was waiting.