Filed to story: Mated and Hated by My Brother’s Best Friend Book PDF Free by Anna Campbell
I didn’t answer.
Eva’s gaze drifted toward the far edge of the courtyard, where two figures stood half-shadowed beneath the broken arch.
Eric and Lincoln.
Thadn’t expected to see them.
Eric had Max’s face, almost exactly Softer around the edges maybe, and with less steel in his eyes, but the resemblance was enough to make ma pausa, Lincoln stood tall beside him, silent and unreadable. His jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle twitching.
They hadn’t approached. Hadn’t offered words or looks. But they were here. That was something.
I remembered the last time I saw them all in a room together. Max had just returned from one of his punishments after the mark, after Jiselle’s collapse, after the fight with Nate. Lincoln had all but disowned him, and Eric… Eric couldn’t even look him in the eye.
They’d left without saying goodbye.
And now this was all that was left.
“They blame themselves,” Eva said.
I glanced at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because I do too.”
She said it simply. No tears. No dramatics. Just fact. Like admitting it gave her control over it.
I stepped down from the pyre, brushing the ash from my hands, and followed her gaze.
“You want to talk to them?”
She shook her head. “They need each other more than they need me right now. And I need…”
She looked at me.
“I need to breathe.”
I nodded.
We walked away from the pyre together.
Eva didn’t say much after that. We ended up in the old observatory, one of the few places untouched by flame. It was quiet there, and the glass dome had only a few cracks left behind by the shaking of the leyline.
She sat on the stone bench and tilted her head back, staring up at the still-dark sky.
“You know what I hate the most?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“That I didn’t tell him I forgave him. Not fully. Not when it would’ve mattered.”
I sat beside her, the cold from the bench seeping into my legs.
“He never expected you to.”
“But he hoped.”
She looked at me then. And for a moment, there was a softness in her expression I hadn’t seen before. Not romantic. Not longing. Just shared pain.
“You’re always there for everyone else,” she said. “When do you fall apart, Ethan?”
The question struck me harder than I expected.
I didn’t answer.
She leaned over and touched my hand. Just a brush of fingers. Then she stood.
“I’ll see you at the ceremony.”
Jiselle’s room was dark when I knocked.
She didn’t answer, but I felt her presence. Heard the faint rustle of movement inside.
Nate opened the door. Only slightly. His expression was unreadable, guarded. That wasn’t new-but something about it felt heavier. Warler,
“She’s resting,” he said.
I nodded. “I won’t stay long.”
He hesitated, then stepped aside.
Jiselle sat by the window, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to keep her insides from spilling out. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled faintly.
“You look like you haven’t slept.”
“Neither have you.”
She shrugged. “Sleep feels far away.”
I crossed the room and sat opposite her.
“I keep thinking,” I said, “if I’d been more present-more aware of everything… maybe things wouldn’t have ended the way they did.”
She didn’t argue.
Didn’t comfort either.
Just reached out and took my hand.
That was enough.
But as I sat there, something gnawed at me.
The way she and Nate looked at each other. The way they didn’t speak. The way silence had become a language between them I no longer understood.
I knew my sister. And she wasn’t quiet by nature.
Something was wrong.
And they were hiding it.
The ceremony began at dusk.
ALE
The courtyard was quiet, expectant. The sky above bled into a deeper indigo with every passing minute, and the scent of silver fire waiting to be lit hung heavy in the air. No birds. No breeze. Just stillness.
The pyre stood tall, woven with wood and kindling soaked in ceremonial oils that shimmered faintly with Gatekeeper runes. The silver fire was old magicie
-a sacred tradition reserved for warriors who had crossed between life and death for the sake of others. No one said Max deserved it,
But no one denied him either.
I stood beside Jiselle and Nate, Eva on her other side. She looked thinner than she had days ago, her face pale and drawn, shoulders set tight like she was holding herself together with nothing more than grief and stubbornness. Her hands clutched the white flower so tightly her knuckles blanched.
Eric and Lincoln stood apart, behind the crowd, watching from the shadows beneath the crumbling archway. Their faces were unreadable-stone masks for hearts still bleeding. Lincoln’s jaw never unclenched, and Eric’s eyes never stopped darting between the pyre and Eva, like he wanted to step closer but didn’t know how.
The flames rose slowly.
Eva stepped forward first. Her fingers trembled as she let the white flower fall. It landed gently, curling into the flame like it belonged there. Her lips parted, but no words came. Only a breath. Sharp and wet. Her shoulders shook once, then she stepped back beside me.
I followed, Max’s scorched tag heavy in my palm. I placed it at the center of the flames, watching as the silver tongues of fire kissed it, curling it in heat, accepting it like an offering.
Jiselle didn’t move at first.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the pyre, her body motionless. Her hand was in Nate’s, but I could feel the way she gripped his fingers-not just to hold on, but to anchor herself. Her jaw was tight, her breath uneven.
Then, as the fire took the tag, a sharp wind stirred the smoke. It twisted upward into the sky, spiraling in a way that didn’t seem natural. Like something else was pulling it.
Jiselle tensed beside me.
I looked over.
She wasn’t just staring. She was seeing something.
Not like she was watching something burn-but like something inside the fire had caught her attention. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, locked.
“Jizzy?” I whispered.
She didn’t move.
Her lips parted slowly.
Then she whispered, “Do you see it?”
“See what?”
“In the smoke. There’s a figure. Reaching.”
I followed her gaze.
But all I saw was flame and smoke and flickering light. Just the dying chaos of fire.
She took a shaky breath, her voice low and broken. “It’s reaching for me. For..
Her hand moved to her stomach. A gesture so subtle, so tender, that it made the back of my throat burn.
I didn’t need her to say it.
Didn’t want her to.
Because the second she did, this wouldn’t be something we could ignore. It would be real.
The fire flared one last time, snapping upward before collapsing in on itself. The flames folded into ash, leaving only smoke and silence in their wake
And just like that, Max was gone.
Eva choked back a sound-not quite a sob. She turned away, hugging her arms to her chest, her back trembling. Freached out instinctively, but she shook her head. She needed to grieve alone. She’d held so much in, for so long.
Jiselle remained frozen, eyes still fixed on the last curl of smoke, her other hand now resting protectively over her stomach. She didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe for a long moment.
The crowd began to disperse. Whispers drifted like ash. Some lingered, most didn’t.
Nate slipped away first, tension radiating from every line of his body. I watched his retreating back, the stiffness in his shoulders, the urgency in his steps. Something wasn’t right.
I followed him.
Caught up to him just before he reached the outer hall. The shadows were long now, cloaking half his face as he paused at the threshold.
He didn’t look at me. But he knew I was there. His entire body coiled like a wire pulled too tight.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He froze.
Then slowly-turned.
And for the first time in a long time-
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