war has begun, and if they're not careful, a fatality will tear them down.
NO SMUT OR SEXUALIZING ━ if any of the triplets are uncomfortable with this fanfiction, it will be taken down immediately.
matt sturniolo x fem! oc x chris sturniolo (LOVE T...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝖝𝖑𝖛. Brotherly Bonds
Maeve
"HE KNOWS IT'S YOU."
They all seem to inhale at the same time, and Maeve's breath feels ragged. Suddenly, the small room tucked away in the Vesper palace is much too tight. On instinct, her eyes snap to Cyrus. She stares back at her. The blonde steels herself, hardening with determination.
Maeve bites her lip and wishes she could do this alone. But Cyrus isn't going anywhere, standing over Maroc (one of the Montfort triplets.) Close enough to stop this if things get beyond Maeve's control. Nick is here, too, but he's pacing around, unable to stand still. Maroc's eyes burn into Maeve's, alight and intense as his mind bridges the divide between Ridge House and Piedmont. He already vomited out as much information as he could about the prison on the Piedmont base, the bunker half buried with east-facing windows. Which prisoners his brother can see, exactly who he's captured with, who he saw die, who he saw escape. To Maeve's relief, Marzia and Jeremiah were among the survivors who made it into the swamps. That intelligence alone was vital, but this ━ Chris, right in front of them. So close Maeve feels like she could almost reach out and touch him.
She wants to see what Maroc sees. She wants to tip forward, plunge through the depths of his eyes, and emerge in the matching pair staring out of a cell hundreds of miles away. Look Chris in the face again. Read him as she knows she can. Every tick and pull of muscle under skin. The smallest flashes across ice-blue eyes, speaking of secrets and weaknesses he tries to bury.
Maroc's connection to his brother will have to do. Their bond is strong despite the distance, almost immediate. Maroc describes everything he senses through Ren as it comes.
"Christopher is approaching the bars ━ he's leaning in, inches away. There's sweat on his neck. It's hot in Piedmont. It just rained." Maroc's lips curl in distaste. "He's searching us. Our eyes."
Maeve flinches and feels the cold phantom of familiar breath on her skin.
In spite of the sunlight streaming in through the single window, she feels darkness pool in this small, forgotten room hidden in Ridge House. She wishes she'd never thought of this, had never summoned Maroc to do this. He was supposed to be their link to Emmett and Dawson, an easy connection to Montfort. Not to his other brother, captured in Piedmont. Not to Chris.
She forces herself to keep still, locking her muscles and her expression into place. But her heart gallops in her chest, rising to a dull, instant thud.
The knock on the door makes all four of the room's inhabitants jump, startled out of their skin. Maeve whirls, teeth clenched, to see the knob turn, catching fast against a lock. Cyrus crosses to the door in two long strides, ready to turn away whatever servant or snooping noble waits on the other side.
