Their Sister, Their Strength

Chapter 4 - Numb

Elijah silently guided me up the stairs and into my bedroom, his touch as gentle and ethereal as a ghost's whisper. The comforting pressure of his hand against my back spoke volumes, offering solace without the need for words.

My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the latest being the realization that I had met one of my brothers before tonight. But given the gravity of the situation—my mother's murder, my godmother being shot, and my brothers kept away from me for ten years—I filed that information away as insignificant. The weight of everything was already slowly engulfing me, dragging me down like a lead box attached at my ankle, sinking in the sea.

Glancing down the corridor at the top of the stairs, I wondered if I was awake enough to explore the castle. However, he quickly dismissed the idea when I voiced my question.

His hand gently cupped my cheek, and I resisted the urge to lean into it, surrendering to sleep then and there.

"You're exhausted," he whispered tenderly. "You're running on adrenaline, and if I don't get you into bed, you'll crash. Trust me, we have all the time in the world to explore the house tomorrow, I promise."

Well, when he put it that way...

I sighed and reluctantly followed him into the bedroom like a mindless zombie. Part of me wanted to protest, but I could feel the energy seeping out of my bones, and I didn't have any fight left in me.

As we entered the room, guided by Elijah's steady presence, my attention was captivated by four large bags sitting on the bed. They looked shiny, sturdy, and expensive. A question danced in my eyes as I looked up at him.

He motioned for me to sit on the bed, taking a seat beside me. "Luke is still on his way to collect your belongings," he explained quietly, averting his gaze. "We had Jackson pick up a few things so that you would feel more comfortable until we can go shopping."

"You didn't have to. I can manage," I said quietly.

"Of course you can, but why should you have to?"

"Something tells me your standards are a little low," he said with a wry smile as he peeked into two of the bags and placed them on the floor. "We can unpack these tomorrow."

"Elijah," I said.

But he either didn't hear me or chose to ignore my feeble protest as he rummaged through another bag. "Here we go," he said, pulling out what appeared to be two pairs of pajamas. One pair was a soft gray adorned with brown hedgehogs, while the other had a ditsy floral top and pale pink bottoms.

He glanced at me and chuckled lightly. "Forgive Jackson, it seems he's forgotten that you've grown a little."

I shrugged my shoulders, offering a small smile. "They're sweet," I replied, not wanting to admit how cozy and warm they looked.

"That they are," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the pajamas for a lingering moment. The lingering moment extended, and I sensed a hint of sadness shadowing his once bright eyes. Gathering my courage, I tried to find the right words to ask him.

"Elijah?" I asked, meeting his gaze, which now exuded a profound sorrow that resonated within me. "Are you okay?"

His eyes softened. "Of course, Maddie." Yet, beneath the surface, his vibrant green eyes had dulled, losing the spark and intensity I had witnessed when we first met. His body seemed burdened by an unnatural tension, unlike Mason, who carried such rigidity with ease.

Elijah's piercing gaze tugged at my heartstrings, evoking a mix of conflicting desires—I didn't know if I wanted to cry, run away, or hold him tightly, never letting go.