Words - 2105
Trying to write another chapter that I can published tomorrow.
Had the worst hangover of my life.
Thankyou for being so patient

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The yacht sliced through the tranquil waters, the sunlight casting shimmering patterns across the sea. The island loomed closer, its lush greenery and golden sands creating an illusion of paradise. The wives stepped off the deck, their eyes wide with awe as they took in the sprawling mansion perched on the hill, surrounded by towering palms and vibrant flowers.

Shylah clung to Elijah's arm, her face radiant with excitement. She brushed her perfectly styled hair off her shoulder, leaning into him as if they were a lovesick couple on a romantic getaway.

"It's stunning," she gushed, her voice lilting with admiration. "The sea, the sky—it's like something out of a dream. I can't wait to watch the sunset with you." Her fingers lightly traced his forearm, a gesture meant to be endearing.

Elijah's eyes flicked down to her hand, his jaw tightening. Internally, he scoffed, repulsed by her touch. She was nothing more than an inconvenience to him.

Without a trace of humor, he muttered, "The sharks will love having you as their dinner. They haven't had a proper meal in a long time."

The air around them froze. Shylah's face paled, her grip slackening as she stared at him in horror. Sophia and Scarlet exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier excitement dissolving into discomfort.

Lucian's sharp gaze snapped to Elijah, his eyes narrowing in warning. The unspoken message was clear: Don't. Not the right time.

Elijah glanced at him and then, as if on cue, forced out a laugh that sounded as hollow as it felt. "Relax," he said, flashing a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "I was just joking. Lighten up. Ladies."

The women hesitated, but when Shylah offered a weak chuckle, they followed suit, the tension diffusing somewhat. Elijah let her hand drop as he walked ahead, his long strides leaving the wives to trail behind.

Inside the mansion, the air was cooler, the grandeur even more overwhelming. High ceilings, intricate chandeliers, and an expansive view of the ocean made it clear that no expense had been spared.

Alexander stood by the window, a glass of whiskey in hand, his expression unreadable. As the brothers entered, he turned slightly, his piercing gaze landing on Elijah.

"Don't mess this up," Alexander said, his voice low but firm. "Not until we have a proper plan. Do you understand me?"

Elijah's lips twitched into a faint smirk, but he nodded. "Of course, big brother," he said mockingly, though there was a flicker of seriousness in his tone.

Alexander held his gaze for a moment longer before turning back to the window, his posture exuding control. "Good. Because one wrong move, and everything we've built will crumble. Keep your heads straight."

Lucian glanced at Elijah, who merely shrugged as if none of this mattered to him. But Lucian could see the simmering anger beneath the surface, the frustration of being controlled by their father's demands.

The wives, oblivious to the tension, marveled at the luxurious interior, their chatter filling the space as they admired the decor. But none of them knew the true darkness lurking on the island.

Only the brothers knew.

Only they knew how in the basement of this paradise, August lay trembling, her world as shattered as the dreams that had once held her together.

.

.

As the evening slipped into night, the mansion quieted, save for the rhythmic crashing of waves against the island's shores. The family dinner had been uneventful, filled with polite conversation and calculated smiles. But when it was time to retire, Sophia subtly signaled her sisters as they rose from the table.

A slight glance, a faint tilt of her head. It was all that was needed. Her younger sisters caught on immediately, exchanging a barely perceptible nod in silent agreement. Each woman carried a knowing smile as they made their way to their respective rooms, the plan set in motion.

Inside her suite, Sophia wasted no time. She discarded her evening gown and slid into a delicate silk nightdress, its design leaving very little to the imagination. Her sisters mirrored her actions in their own rooms, selecting garments that were bold, provocative, and undeniably designed to entice.

Their husbands were not fools, and the sisters knew this. They had no illusions about their marriages being anything other than transactions. But tonight, they aimed to remind the brothers of the power they held—or thought they held—over them.

The first to make her move was Shylah, her soft perfume trailing as she entered Elijah's study. She leaned against the doorframe, her silhouette bathed in moonlight. "Couldn't sleep," she murmured, her voice honeyed.

Elijah looked up from his phone, his eyes glinting with amusement as they trailed over her figure. He set the device aside and stood, his movements deliberate. He approached her slowly, his expression unreadable.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" he said, his voice low and smooth.

In Alexander's room, Sophia curled into his side as he sat in an armchair, feigning relaxation. She traced a finger along his chest, her touch light but purposeful.

"I missed you," she whispered.

Lucian, in his own suite, leaned against the headboard as his wife sauntered in, her nightdress clinging to her like a second skin. She climbed onto the bed with practiced ease, her lips curved into a sly smile.

The brothers played along, their charm as lethal as ever. They touched, teased, and let their wives believe they were winning this game of seduction. But beneath the surface, they each wore masks, calculating their next move.

It didn't take long.

Sophia was the first to notice the dizziness. Her sultry words faltered, and her hand slipped from Alexander's chest as her vision blurred.

"Alex..." she mumbled, swaying slightly.

In Elijah's study, Shylah stumbled, clutching at him for support. "I don't... I feel..."

Lucian's wife barely managed a surprised gasp before she slumped against him, her limbs going limp.

Within minutes, all three women lay unconscious, their seductive plans undone. The brothers moved swiftly, their earlier roles discarded.

Alexander stood and straightened his shirt, glancing down at Sophia's unconscious form with a mix of disgust and satisfaction.

Lucian smirked as he pushed Scarlet off him in disdain, her head lolling against his shoulder. "I hope I won't have to take your blood in my hand, even your blood would be filthy like you?" he hissed to the now unconscious Scarlet.

The wives, so confident in their plans, were now mere pawns in the brothers' larger, more dangerous game.

The brothers recklessly placed their unconscious wives onto the bed, their movements sharp and detached. They had little patience for this charade, and as soon as the task was complete, they all decided towards Alexander's study as discussed earlier.

.
.

The heavy wooden door to Alexander's study groaned as Elijah shoved it open. He strolled in first, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. Lucian followed, his hair tousled and a lazy smirk curling his lips.

"Where is he?" Elijah drawled, dropping into one of the leather chairs.

Lucian grabbed a book off the shelf, flipping through it absently. "Probably still tangled in his wife's little trap," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. He perched on the arm of the chair across from Elijah, his grin widening. "Imagine Alex losing the seduction game. Priceless."

Elijah chuckled darkly, taking a slow sip of his drink. "He's always going on about control. Guess even the great Alexander has his limits. Maybe Sophia somehow cracked his icy exterior."

Lucian's laughter was infectious, his voice laced with amusement. "Or," he suggested, leaning in conspiratorially, "he's in there, vanishing the life out of her."

Elijah's smirk deepened. "That, or he's been drugged to fuck, that would serve him right."

They erupted into laughter, the sound bouncing off the walls of the grand study. It was rare for the younger brothers to have moments like these, where the heavy weight of their plans didn't suffocate them. Teasing Alexander was a guilty pleasure they could never resist.

But as the minutes ticked by, the humor began to wane.

Elijah frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It's been too long," he said, tossing the book onto the table. "What is he still doing?"

Lucian pushed himself out of the chair, setting his glass down with a clink. "Let's check on him," he said, already heading for the door.

Elijah followed, but when lucian tried the handle, it didn't budge. He frowned, jiggling it harder. "What the hell?"

Elijah stepped beside him, his expression twisting into disbelief. "Don't tell me—"

Lucian cut him off, slamming his palm against the wood. "Alexander! You bastard" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

There was no response.

Elijah scoffed with irritation and fury. "He locked us in," he said, and then almost laughing at the absurdity.

Lucian turned to him, his eyes narrowing. "He wouldn't."

Elijah gestured around the room dramatically. "Clearly, he would. Looks like our elder brother's not as sharing as we thought."

Lucian cursed under his breath, pacing like a caged predator. "That manipulative fucker," he growled. "He planned this."

Elijah crossed his arms, leaning casually against the desk. "Of course he did. He knew we would come here as per the discussion, will wait for him and then—bam—lock us in. He's probably downstairs right now, laughing his ass off."

Lucian's jaw clenched as he kicked the base of the door in frustration. "When I get out of here, I'm going to kill him."

Elijah laughed mockingly.

Lucian shot him a glare. "You think this is funny?"

"Absolutely," Elijah said, sitting back on the desk and folding his arms behind his head. "The great Alexander, locking us away to keep our little treasure just for himself. It's poetic, really."

A string of curses erupted from lucian, his fists pounding against the heavy wood. "This has got to be some kind of joke," he spat, pacing the room like a caged animal.

Elijah pulled out his phone, his fingers moving rapidly across the screen as he tried to call someone—anyone—but the reception was nonexistent. Scoffing, he flung the phone onto a nearby table.

Suddenly, their eyes fell on a letter that got slipped via door. They glanced each other other before reading the message.

I'll be spending some quality time with Rose tonight. The last thing I need is her panicking if she sees either of you.
—Alexander

Lucian groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is ridiculous."

Elijah leaned forward, his grin sharp. "Admit it. You're impressed. He played us like chess pieces, and we walked right into it."

Lucian didn't respond, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. But deep down, he knew Lucian was right. Alexander was always three steps ahead, even when it came to his own brothers.

They were trapped now, forced to stew in their own impatience while Alexander, as always, maintained the upper hand.

Lucian's expression darkened as he flopped into an armchair, running a hand through his hair. "It's been almost 10 days," he muttered, the frustration in his voice giving way to something more vulnerable. "More than a whole damn week since I last saw her."

Elijah sat on the edge of the couch, his hands gripping his knees. "I can feel you Ian...I didn't think it was possible," he admitted quietly, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and irritation. "I never imagined someone could make me feel like this. Like I'm... addicted."

Lucian let out a low, bitter laugh as Elijah now walked away to make them another drink.

"Addicted, obsessed, whatever anyone want to call it. All I know is I need to see her." His eyes flicked with rage. "And those women... they're in the way."

Elijah understood lucian's blank gaze, his expression hardening. "They're obstacles, nothing more. But my little dove... she's—" He stopped, unable to put the depth of his feelings into words.

Lucian sighed heavily, kicking off his shoes as he moved to the other side of the couch. "We'll figure it out," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. "We always do."

Lucian plopped down besides Elijah as he passed him the glass.

He stared at the wall, his mind racing with thoughts of August—her voice, her scent, the way she made him feel alive and powerless all at once.

As time passed and sleep started to consume them, both brothers found themselves consumed by the same thought: how to keep August with them, without interference, without obstacles.

Their wives were mere shadows in their rooms, their presence a glaring reminder of the chains they needed to break. But for now, there was nothing they could do.

What do you think of the chapter?