*Isabella's POV*
"What?" The word was a choked whisper, a sharp, painful gasp that stole the air from my lungs. "Did you say... fucking separately?" The word hung between us, ugly and foreign. It was the one option I hadn't let myself consider, the one that meant choosing, that meant breaking something fundamental, not just between them, but within myself.
And as the word settled, I saw it. The atmosphere in the room, already thick enough to choke on, solidified into something hostile and sharp. Their heads snapped towards each other, and the glares they threw were not just angry; they were primal, predatory. It was a silent, territorial war fought with narrowed eyes and clenched jaws. Jacob's hands curled into fists at his sides, while Damien's entire body went rigid, a tight spring of resentment. The air crackled with a violent, possessive energy that was suffocating.
"I smell testosterone," I muttered, the words a weak shield against the overwhelming intensity of their silent battle. "That's my fucking cue to leave."
With that, I didn't wait for a response. I turned on my heel, my movements feeling stiff and awkward, and walked out of the room. I didn't look back, but I could feel their combined glare burning into my back, a hot, heavy weight that followed me down the hall. I left them there, locked in their conflict, two halves of a whole ready to tear each other apart over the very idea of being apart.
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The silence that slammed into the room after Isabella's departure was suffocating. It was a heavy, living thing, thick with the residue of their glaring competition. The air still crackled with the unspoken threat of violence, a territorial pissing match that had ended in a stalemate, leaving the bitter taste of testosterone and resentment.
Jacob was the first to move, breaking the tense scene. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slumping in a rare show of defeat. The fight seemed to drain out of him all at once, leaving behind a hollowed-out exhaustion.
"I'm gonna head out," he said, his voice rough and strained. The words weren't a suggestion; they were a statement of fact. He was getting the hell out of this pressure cooker of a room before it exploded.
Damien, still leaning against the wall like a brooding statue, didn't shift an inch. He didn't nod, he didn't flinch. He just watched his brother, his eyes cold and hard as river stones.
"Good," Damien said. The single word was sharp, biting, and laced with a cold, petty satisfaction. It was a victory, and he savoured it for a moment.
Jacob didn't reply. He just turned, his movements stiff, and walked towards the door. Each footstep on the wooden floor was a loud, sharp beat in the suffocating quiet. Damien watched him retreat, his gaze unwavering, a silent, triumphant look guarding his newly won, empty territory. The click of the latch as Jacob pulled the door shut was the final, damning punctuation mark to another round of their endless, fucked-up war.
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*Isabella's POV*
The next morning, my head was fucking pounding. It wasn't a hangover from booze, but from emotion – a toxic cocktail of Jacob's insane soulmate theory, Damien's brooding scepticism, and the suffocating weight of being caught in the middle.
All I wanted was a cup of coffee, strong enough to burn away the taste of last night's shitshow from my tongue. I shuffled down the stairs into the quiet of the kitchen, the early morning light filtering through the windows doing nothing to brighten my mood.
"Do you want me to come help?" a voice asked, low and close behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Jesus, Damien," I breathed, clutching my chest. "Don't sneak up on a girl like that." He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking like he hadn't slept a fucking wink. His presence was a heavy blanket in the room.
"No, please, stay here," I said, turning my back on him to search through the cupboards for a coffee filter. "Tony will help me with everything. I don't have many things anyway. Just some clothes and my laptop." I kept my voice light, breezy, hoping he'd just leave me be to pack in peace.
I could feel his eyes on me as I moved around the kitchen. "Can I... can I pay you rent?" I asked, the words tumbling out in a nervous rush. I turned to face him, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "I'd feel better about it," I added, my voice barely a whisper.
"Rent?" He looked at me like I'd just grown a second head. "But it's your apartment, Isabella." His tone was flat, as if I was being deliberately difficult.
"But it doesn't feel right," I countered, a flash of frustration cutting through my anxiety.
"I told you," he said, pushing off the doorframe and taking a step closer. "Consider it a bonus for the three deals you helped me close last year." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
"Uhm... I..." I stuttered, my mind scrambling for a rebuttal and coming up empty. He was boxing me in, using logic I couldn't fight without sounding ungrateful.
"It's a bonus, Isabella. Stop overthinking it," he said, his gaze softening just a fraction.
At that exact moment, Jacob appeared in the doorway behind Damien, looking like a lost puppy who'd just been kicked. The tension from last night came roaring back.
"Okay," I sighed, defeated, directing the word at Damien but feeling Jacob's eyes on me.
"I'll miss you, sweetheart," Jacob said, his bottom lip sticking out in a practiced pout that was probably meant to be charming.
"You'll see me tomorrow at work, silly," I said, forcing a bright tone I didn't feel. I just wanted this to be over.
"No, I won't," Jacob said, his voice suddenly devoid of its playful lilt. He looked at me, his eyes serious and heavy. "I'll fly back to New York later today."