The sound of a whip cracking against skin echoed through the room, sharp and rhythmic. “Keep your hands on that fucking wall. How many times do I need to tell you?” Airn’s voice broke the endless sound.

The boy standing before him, older than Nevan, black hair falling into his eyes, blue and teary, flinched with every strike. “I-I’m sorry, Master Airn… b-but it’s already been twenty hits.”

Airn clenched his jaw. This boy was nothing like Nevan. Not the calm green eyes, not the soft innocence that hid steel beneath. Storm was replaceable. Nevan wasn’t.

“Storm, calm down for once… at this point, you’re going to break the boy’s ass,” Alastor’s voice called from the couch, rising from where he had been watching quietly.

Airn whirled, the whip still in his hand. “What? Got a problem with that?”

Alastor smirked, crossing the room slowly. “No. But I think I have something you’ll want to know.”

Airn raised an eyebrow, tense. “Who, Shade?”

Alastor shook his head. “Nevan. The little songbird.”

Airn’s eyes widened just for a fraction of a second before narrowing, the edge in them sharp and dangerous. “Get out, James,” he muttered, low. The boy—James—fumbled to pull his clothes on, disappearing quickly out the door.

Once the door closed behind James, Alastor leaned against the wall, calm and deliberate. “Nevan has a soft spot,” he said, voice low, measured. “Friends. If we want him to beg, we go after his friends.”

Airn’s grip on the whip loosened slightly. He could already feel it, the pull in his chest—the thought of Nevan reacting, of green eyes finally betraying a flicker of vulnerability.

He pictured it suddenly, unbidden.

Nevan on his knees, quiet, obedient, a collar at his throat. Airn’s hand lifting the boy’s chin. That impossible stillness, that calm defiance finally broken.

For a heartbeat, he lost himself in the vision. Then Alastor’s voice cut through, sharp yet amused. “I see you’ve already thought that far.”

Airn’s gaze snapped to his brother. “Careful.”

Alastor only smiled, eyes glinting. “Obsession makes you sloppy, but it also makes you honest. Admit it—you want him like that, don’t you?”

Airn turned away, forcing the thought down, grinding it into something cold, something useful. “Nevan won’t beg easily. Even for them.”

Alastor stepped closer, voice quiet, measured. “He will. Not where it hurts himself… but where it hurts those he cares for. That’s his weakness.”

Airn felt a thrill he hadn’t expected, sharp and dangerous. This was no longer about teasing. This was about understanding him, learning him, and—eventually—making Nevan choose.

He set the whip aside. The echo of leather against stone still lingered in the room, a reminder of the control and danger that surrounded them. Outside, the world went on, oblivious to the shift that had occurred in the twins’ plans.

Nevan still believed himself untouchable, still believed the twins were just another cruelty he could endure.

He was wrong.

Airn allowed himself a faint smile, dark and satisfied. They wouldn’t break Nevan directly. They would make him break himself. And when the first word he begged finally left his lips, it would be a sound neither twin would ever forget

The hallways were unusually quiet for mid-afternoon, the hum of students reduced to faint echoes. Airn and Alastor moved with deliberate steps, eyes scanning, searching. They knew exactly where Nevan would be — he had his predictable routes, his quiet habits, his little routines.

There he was, walking alone, hands buried in his jacket pockets, humming softly. The same calm, unshakable green eyes, scanning the world as though nothing could touch him.

Airn’s lips curved into a sharp smile.

“Little songbird,” he murmured, nudging Alastor. “Time to see what really matters to him.”

Alastor’s smile was slow, calculating. “Careful,” he said. “He’s patient. We need precision, not force.”

They fell into step behind him, silent predators. Nevan didn’t look back. His pace didn’t falter. Calm. Always calm.

Airn stepped forward, blocking the corridor with his body. Alastor moved to the other side. The hallway felt smaller, tighter, as if the walls themselves pressed inward. Nevan stopped, finally, for the first time showing a flicker of recognition in his gaze.

“Airn. Alastor.” His voice was soft, even, but a faint tension vibrated beneath the surface.

Airn leaned closer, lowering his voice, sharp and teasing. “Walking alone… you’re careless, songbird. You know the rules, don’t you? Some things can’t be ignored.”

Alastor’s eyes glinted as he added, “Your friend… Theo. Always by your side, isn’t he?”

Nevan’s lips pressed together for a fraction of a second, hesitation. That tiny pause was all they needed.

“Don’t… don’t you care about him?” Airn’s tone softened, deceptively casual, yet the undercurrent of danger pressed like a hand to Nevan’s chest.

Nevan’s hands trembled slightly in his pockets, a reaction he tried desperately to hide. “I… I… just…” His words faltered. Calm was slipping.

Alastor’s voice, soft and cold, brushed against him like ice. “You’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you? Anything to keep him safe?”

The hall seemed to shrink around Nevan. He swallowed hard. Heat prickled at his chest, and for the first time, he realized they weren’t just teasing. They understood him. They knew the chord to strike.

“Stop,” he whispered, barely audible.

Airn tilted his head, smirking. “Stop? Is that all you can say, songbird?” He stepped closer. “Say it properly. Beg.”

Nevan froze, the word hitting him like a stone. Beg. He had never spoken it aloud, never surrendered like this, never revealed that thread of fear he kept buried beneath calm and patience.

Alastor’s eyes held his, sharp and patient, like a predator waiting for the moment to strike. “For Theo. Say it, Nevan. Just say it.”

Green eyes flickered to the floor, hands clenching, jaw tight. The songbird was still, still as stone, but the tension was raw, palpable.

“P-please…” His voice trembled, breaking the calm for the first time. “…don’t… don’t hurt him.”

Airn’s breath hitched at the sound, low and quiet. He leaned closer, almost whispering, and saw the way Nevan’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly, the vulnerability flashing in his gaze.

Alastor’s smirk deepened, satisfaction hidden behind calm observation. “Good. That’s a start. The first word. The first bend in your will.”

Nevan’s eyes lifted slowly, green meeting hazel, calm shattered just enough to reveal his heart’s hidden fracture.

Airn’s mind pictured it again — kneeling, soft, quiet, desperate. That image, fleeting and sharp, sent a thrill through him. Alastor noticed, of course, but didn’t comment. He let Airn burn in it while the game continued.

Airn’s hand itched to brush a strand of hair from Nevan’s face, to test the limits further. But they didn’t need to. Nevan had already reacted. They had found the chord. The weakness.

And the game… had just begun.

The corridor smelled faintly of dust and late afternoon sun, but that didn’t matter. All I could smell was him. Nevan. Calm, soft, infuriating. The green eyes that never seemed to betray fear… until today.

Alastor leaned against the wall, hands folded, observing with that quiet, calculating patience he always wore like armor. “He reacted,” he said, almost to himself. “And it was clean. Controlled. But he reacted.”

Airn let my gaze drift back to the empty hallway where Nevan had disappeared moments ago. The memory of that whisper — please… don’t hurt him — gnawed at the edges of my mind. His chest tightened at the thought.

Alastor’s smirk drew me out of my spiral. “You’re thinking too much about kneeling, Airn.”

“I can’t help it,” Airn muttered. “It wasn’t just begging. He… he was different. Something snapped through his calm. I can’t stop imagining him like that.”

Alastor chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “And you’re not the only one.” He leaned closer, eyes glinting. “We’ve found his weakness. That’s all we need. We don’t need force. Not yet. We just need patience… and precision.”

Airn ran a hand through his black hair, trying to burn the image from his mind. But it didn’t work. The songbird had entered Airn’s thoughts in a way nothing else ever had.

“His friends,” Alastor continued, “his little attachments — that’s where the cracks appear. That’s how we make him bend. He isn’t weak. He’s careful, patient, enduring… but not unbreakable.”

I swallowed, the weight of the idea settling over his. “So… we use Theo.”

Alastor’s lips curved. “Exactly. And once he bends… once he begs properly… we don’t let him forget it.”

Airn imagined Nevan kneeling, green eyes flickering with vulnerability, and his chest tightened again. The thought made  he furious at himself, because Airn shouldn’t feel this way. He wasn’t ours. Not yet.

Alastor’s voice broke through, calm but teasing. “Careful, brother. You’re already thinking in pictures of collars and quiet submission. Don’t lose the game before it even starts.”

Airn clenched hisfists. “I won’t. But I can’t lie… the thought of him like that…”

Alastor’s eyes caught mine, amused. “Neither can I. That’s why we play this carefully. Pressure, teasing, subtle manipulation. Not too much, not too fast. Let him discover his own limits. Let him beg again, but on our terms.”

Airn nodded slowly, heart still hammering. The game had changed. We weren’t just testing him anymore. We were invested, obsessed even.

“And the best part?” Alastor added, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “He doesn’t even know it yet.”

Airn  let a dark smile slip. “Then let’s make sure he finds out… soon.”

Outside, the students laughed and talked as if nothing had shifted. But in the shadows of the hallways, the twins’ eyes burned for a single target. The songbird had been found. And from this moment, nothing would ever be the same.