21. Theodore
21
THEODORE
S he hasn’t left her room in over a week, Theo . We fucking broke her,” Julian argues.
I twirl in my chair until I’m facing the office windows. Beyond the glass, the courtyard stretches out, nothing but empty space where the mansion once stood. A hollow grave.
Julian’s voice grates against my brain—not because he’s wrong, but because I’ve been thinking the same thing. Isabel hasn’t stepped foot outside her room since the night we cornered her in the living room. She hasn’t screamed at us, hasn’t thrown things, hasn’t even tried to fight. Silence isn’t like her. The Isabel we took was loud, reckless, clawing for freedom with everything she had.
This Isabel is a ghost.
Maxwell is slouched on the couch, flipping a knife between his fingers with a lazy expression. “ You’re acting like we should feel bad about it.”
Julian shoots him a glare. “ You don’t?”
Maxwell hums, pressing the flat of the blade to his mouth in mock thought. “ I feel… unsettled.” He smirks. “ That counts for something, right?”
Julian turns back to me. “ We need to do something.”
I drum my fingers against the desk, weighing my options.
Pushing up from my seat, I run a hand through my hair and walk out of the office, tugging at my sweater to release the invisible wrinkles.
The sound of quiet sobs seeps through the wooden door when I get to Isabel’s room. I exhale slowly, pressing my palm against the doorframe.
She’s breaking.
I should let her. It would make things a lot easier for us.
Instead , I do the one thing I shouldn’t.
“ Isabel .”
The crying cuts off abruptly, but I know she’s still there, just beyond this door. I can picture her curled up in bed, arms wrapped around herself, eyes red and swollen. The thought unsettles me.
It’s the same position she has been in since she stumbled back into this room after our little group activity.
The hidden camera tucked into the corner of the ceiling shows me everything. How she barely moves, how she stares blankly at the wall for hours, how she only drags herself out of bed when necessary. It’s like the fight in her has been drained, her fire reduced to dying embers.
And for some reason, it makes my stomach twist in a way I don’t fucking like.
I lean against the door, voice quieter. “ You can talk to me.”
A bitter laugh. “ Talk to you?” Her voice is hoarse, like she hasn’t used it in days. “ What could we possibly talk about, Theodore ?”
I hesitate before answering. “ Whatever you want.”
Silence .
Then , softer, “ Let me go.”
A muscle in my jaw ticks. I close my eyes.
She’s the only person who could ask me that and almost get away with it.
Because she’s the only person I have a soft spot for.
It’s dangerous, this pull I feel toward her. It goes against everything I’ve built myself to be. But there’s something about her that makes me hesitate—something that reminds me of myself in ways I don’t want to admit.
“ I can’t,” I finally say.
Her sharp inhale is loud in the quiet hallway. “ Why ?”
I could lie, tell her it’s because of the deal we made, because she’s a loose end we can’t afford to let slip through our fingers. But instead, I tell her the truth.
“ Because we need you.”
She scoffs. “ For what? To keep your bed warm?”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “ Tempting , but no.” I let the silence stretch before I continue. “ You want to know why we need you? Fine . You deserve that much.”
I press my forehead against the door, voice dropping lower. “ I was an orphan, left at an orphanage as a baby. No name, no history. I don’t remember anything .”
She doesn’t respond, but I hear her shift, like she’s moving closer.
“ We’ve spent our whole lives chasing ghosts, Isabel . The Whitmores raised us with secrets. And those secrets? They lead back here. To Vanguard . To the things my family buried deep enough that most people would rather pretend they never existed.” My fingers tighten against the doorframe. “ We’re trying to dig them back up. And we need you to do it.”
A long pause. Then , quietly, “ Why me?”
“ Because you’re a thread in the middle of all of this. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re part of this now. And I think…” I trail off, my mind racing with everything I suspect but can’t prove yet. “ I think you’re connected to this more than you realize.”
Another pause.
Then , to my surprise, her voice softens. “ I don’t know anything about my parents either.”
Something in my chest tightens.
For the first time since we took her, she doesn’t sound like she hates me.
“ We’re not so different, then, you and I ,” I murmur.
She lets out a small breath. “ Maybe not.”
The fragile moment stretches, a delicate thread between us that could snap at any second.
Then , she sighs. “ I still hate you.”
I smirk, stepping away from the door. “ I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Palm against the door, I lean in, even though I know she won’t do the same. “ That’s why I need to do this. Because for the first time in my life, I might finally be uncovering who my family truly is.”
“ I get it,” Isabel says. “ I really do. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re keeping me here against my will.”
A bitter smirk tugs at my lips. “ What’s waiting for you out there, huh?” I ask, forcing my tone to stay even. “ A man?”
I know it’s pathetic to even ask, but the thought coils hot in my stomach. The idea of her running off to someone else makes my jaw clench.
She scoffs. “ No .”
I don’t know why relief washes through me, but I shove the feeling down before it can settle.
“ Valeria .”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “ She means a lot to you.”
“ She’s the only one who ever truly cared about me,” Isabel says, and there’s fragility in her voice.
“ We care about you too, Isabel .”
She lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. “ Right . Because kidnapping me, threatening me, and dragging me into this nightmare was all out of care. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“ I know we’ve given you every reason not to believe that,” I say, stepping closer. “ And I’m not asking for your forgiveness—not yet. But I’m telling you the truth.”
She doesn’t respond.
“ I’d be lying if I said it was just about the plan now.” I pause, trying to find the words. “ You calm something in me I didn’t even know needed calming. You challenge me, infuriate me, and yet when you're near, everything else quiets down. It’s not just that we need you, Isabel . I need you.”
“ You don’t get to say that,” she finally whispers. “ You don’t get to stand there and act like this is something real when you’re part of the reason I can’t sleep at night.”
I take the hit.
“ You don’t get to want things, Theodore . Not when you’ve taken so much from me,” Isabel argues, exhaling sharply. “ You want peace?” she continues. “ Then maybe you should’ve left me alone. Maybe you should’ve let me live my life instead of dragging me into yours.”
I take a breath, the weight of her words pressing down on me like a stone to the chest.
“ You’re right,” I say. “ I don’t deserve your trust. But I’m not going to lie to you to make this easier. I just want you to know it’s the truth, even if it’s still a nightmare for you.”
Isabel remains quiet behind the door.
It’s been days with her locked away in that damn room, only acknowledging our existence by taking the food we leave at her door. At least she’s eating now, but that’s not enough. She needs more than this self-imposed isolation. “ Come out, Isabel .”
More silence.
I try again. “ Please .”
A pause. “ What’s the point?” She sighs, and I can hear the exhaustion in it. “ It’s not like I can go outside anyway.”
Something in my chest twists. She’s not wrong. She’s been a prisoner in this house since the moment we took her, no matter how much freedom we’ve allowed her within these walls.
“ You don’t have to stay locked in there,” I argue, my voice rougher than I intend. “ At least come downstairs.”
Nothing .
I close my eyes, gripping the back of my neck. I could force the door open, drag her out if I must, but I don’t want to do that.
I don’t want to break her any more than we already have.
“ Come out, Isabel ,” I say again, softer this time. “ Please .”
“ Just go, Theodore .”
I don’t move right away. My hand is still on the door, my fingers pressing into the wood as if I can reach through it, as if I can force her to change her mind by sheer will alone.
“ Isabel .”
“ Leave .” There’s no anger in her tone, no fire. And somehow, that’s worse.
For the first time in a long time, I feel… defeated.
I drag a hand down my face before forcing myself to step away. My body is heavy as I turn, my mind screaming at me to make her listen.
Without another word, I walk away.