Her 8 Older Brothers

Italy

Third Person POV:

Ariana's stomach twisted as Nico walked her back to the hotel, each step making her feel more trapped. The warm comfort of her stuffed dog pressed against her chest did little to ease the dread gnawing at her. They rode the elevator in silence, but tension hung thick in the air; she felt like she was about to be fed to a pack of wolves.

When the elevator doors opened, her heart dropped. All her brothers stood there, looking both exhausted and furious. Mathew was at the front, his face pale but hard, arms crossed tightly. She swallowed hard, unable to meet any of their eyes as she took a step forward, feeling their stares like weights.

Mathew's voice broke the silence first, low but simmering with anger. "What were you thinking, Ariana? Do you have any idea what kind of mess you just caused?"

Ariana looked down, gripping her stuffed dog, her voice a trembling whisper. "I just... I needed some space."

"Space?" Antonio's voice cut through, louder and sharper than Mathew's. "Ariana, we're not on some vacation! We're in the middle of a crisis. You disappearing like that could've put everyone in even more danger. Did you even think about that?"

Her throat closed up, and she struggled to hold back tears. "I just didn't want to leave. I wanted to go somewhere familiar for a while..."

"Well, that's too bad," Gio snapped. "Because we don't have the luxury of doing what we want right now, Ari. This isn't about you."

Her head jerked up at his words, and for a second, she felt her chest flare with anger. "It's my life, too," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Yeah? And what good does risking your life do for the rest of us?" Gio replied, his face tight with frustration. "If something happened to you, all of this-everything we're doing-would be pointless."

She tried to hold his gaze, but his disappointment cut too deeply. Her voice faltered, and she looked down. "I just... I didn't think it would be such a big deal."

"A big deal?" Nico, who'd stayed silent until now, scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. "You really don't get it, do you?"

She bristled, feeling as if every brother had turned against her. The weight of their disappointment, their frustration, was almost crushing. She wanted to defend herself, to say she wasn't a prisoner, but the words felt useless, powerless, against the force of their anger.

"Enough," Mathew's voice cut through, cold but steady. "Ariana, we're not angry just because you left. We're angry because you put yourself at risk. You're part of this family, and when you do something reckless, you're putting all of us at risk, too. We're trying to protect you."

She swallowed, her voice shaking. "But I don't want to go to Italy. Why can't we stay and fight?"

A tense silence filled the room, and for a moment, she could see the conflict in their eyes-especially Mathew's. Finally, he spoke, his voice strained. "Because if we stay, we'll be on the defensive. We need allies, resources, and time. Italy gives us all of that. It's not about what we want; it's about what we need to do to stay alive."

She felt her chest tighten as Mathew's words sank in. Her gaze fell to the floor as a bitter, hollow feeling settled in her stomach. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Antonio sighed loudly.

"This is pointless. She doesn't get it," he muttered, looking away from her as if she were a nuisance.

That small gesture felt like a slap to her face, and for a brief second, she wanted to scream, to shout back that she wasn't a child, that she deserved to have a say in her own life. But when she looked up and saw the hard lines of her brothers' faces, her resolve crumbled. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to swallow her words. It was useless. They wouldn't listen. No one ever listened.