Trapped in Time

[Elias's POV]

I stood there, rooted to the spot, Rowan's words still ringing in my ears, heavy with rage that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long.

Useless. Weak. Soft. Was that what he truly thought of me? Had he been holding onto this resentment all along?

The worst part was, I couldn't even argue. Because deep down, a voice in the back of my mind whispered the same accusations. I was useless. I was weak.

And maybe I was too soft for this world we were trying to carve out for ourselves.

I tore my gaze from the doorway Rowan had stormed through, glancing toward Alicia. She hadn't moved, her expression taut with shock. But there was something else there, just beneath the surface—anger.

Not for herself, but for me. She looked like she wanted to say something, to jump to my defense, but no words came. At least I wasn't completely alone in this hellhole.

A sharp exhale broke the silence. "Well, that was an unexpected twist." Tobias's voice was dry, but I caught the slight note of unease beneath it. He leaned back against the table Rowan had just nearly flipped, watching me with something that wasn't quite sympathy, but wasn't amusement either.

I barely heard him. My mind was still reeling. Rowan—who never lost control, who wore his emotions like armor, showing only what he wanted us to see—had just snapped.

And yet… if he felt nothing, if he had truly given up on me, he wouldn't have snapped like that. Would he? Maybe, buried beneath all that fury, there was something else—something that still cared.

The silence that followed was thick, pressing in on all of us like a heavy fog. No one knew what to say, still trying to process what had just happened.

It was as if the laws of nature had suddenly rewritten themselves, like the sun had risen from the west. Rowan—collected, unshakable Rowan—had lost it.

Alicia's voice cut through the stillness, laced with disbelief. "What the hell got into him? I've known him for years, and I've never seen him react like that. Not once."

Tobias let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. "Guess you haven't been paying close enough attention." His voice was dry, but not unkind. "He's not made of stone, Alicia. Just better at pretending he is." Then he turned to Handy, smirking faintly. "Except for you, of course. You unfeeling bastard."

Handy didn't even flinch, merely lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

Tobias exhaled, his amusement fading as his gaze drifted toward the door Rowan had stormed through. "Thing is… you can only bury shit for so long before it starts clawing its way back up."

Talia's voice cut through the murk of silence, steady but edged with something sharp. "Imagine it," she said. "Your whole crew—the people you call family—suddenly turning on you. Your brothers standing against you. Your sister looking at you like you're something to be afraid of."

The room felt colder in the wake of her words. She let them hang there, let them sink in. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, quieter—but no less cutting.

"And through it all, he's the one who's carried this on his back. Every deal, every scheme, every alliance. It was all him."

A beat of silence. Then Handy, ever the realist, scoffed. "Y'all are actin' like he's just gonna roll over. He ain't some fragile bitch." His voice was unhurried, but there was a weight to it, a grim certainty.

"Give it a few minutes. He'll come back, and when he does? He'll be worse. More guarded. More dangerous."

His words settled over me like a lead weight, pressing down on my chest.

Because I knew he was right. Rowan wasn't the type to break—he was the type to harden. To double down.

And maybe, just maybe, he was slipping too far into the person he swore he'd never become. Slipping so far, he might not find his way back.

The room grew tense with Handy's words, their weight loomed like a silent promise. Shoulders tensed, eyes flickered toward the door, but we were still one short—Finn.

The man who had lost more than any of us. The man who, by all rights, should have been the loudest voice in the room. And yet, he stayed quiet.

Maybe Rowan was right. What right did I have to challenge him, to question his choices, when Finn—the one who had truly suffered, who had bled grief dry—held his tongue?

But was it really my fault?

Fighting for revenge I didn't even remember. Carrying the weight of a ghost I had no memories of. Since the Risen's camp, everything around me had shifted, reshaped itself into something unrecognizable. Yet I remained the same—trapped in time, frozen in the moment before everything shattered.

Still that same naive boy. The one who had betrayed the person he loved most. The one too weak to change, too lost to move forward. My past had been stolen from me, ripped away like pages torn from a book. And without it, how was I supposed to step into the future?

But that was a coward's excuse.

No—I had to evolve. Had to push forward. Because if I didn't, I'd be left behind. Stagnant. Powerless. And in this world, that was as good as being dead.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Tobias finally broke it. His voice cut clean through the tension, steady but weighted.

"But you did good, Elias." His gaze flickered to me, unreadable. "I never thought it'd be you who stood up to Rowan." A faint exhale, almost like a bitter laugh. "But you did."

His eyes swept across the room, measuring, calculating. "Yes, he's been carrying this alone. That much is true." He let the words settle, their weight pressing into all of us.

"But don't forget—this was his choice." His voice hardened, sharpened. "He could have let us in. Could have shared the burden. But he didn't. He shut us out, took everything on himself, and now—"

Tobias exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Now, we're seeing the cracks. His grip is slipping, his mind unraveling. And the way he leads? It's only going to get more dangerous for all of us."

He didn't have to say it. We all knew. The question wasn't if Rowan would break. It was when.

Talia's expression darkened at Tobias's words, her usual fire flickering just beneath the surface. Normally, this would be the moment she snapped back, her temper a sharp edge against any challenge. I could see Tobias watching her, waiting for it. We all were.

But for once, she stayed silent.

Then, her gaze shifted, locking onto me. I tensed under the weight of it, uncertain of what she saw—what she was searching for.

"What the hell are ya'll staring at?" she muttered, her voice carrying its usual bite, but dulled, somehow. Like a blade that had been chipped at the edge.

Tobias let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, we're all just waiting for you to start bitching."

The words barely had time to settle before the door creaked open, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade sliding from its sheath.

And just like that, whatever argument was brewing died on the spot. And in, stepped him. My brother.

Rowan stepped inside, his face eerily composed, stripped of the raw fury that had consumed him minutes ago. It was as if that short walk had drained him of emotion, leaving behind something measured, something distant.

The room fell into a heavy silence. No one dared to speak. The tension coiled tight, like a beast ready to strike. His gaze swept across us, unreadable—until it landed on me. My breath hitched. In that moment, I wasn't looking at my brother. I was staring into the eyes of something colder, something calculating.

He moved with unnerving precision, every step controlled, deliberate, as though he was regulating himself down to the smallest motion. Then, just a few feet away, he straightened, slipping back into the effortless confidence he always wore like armor.

"Sorry you had to see that," he said, voice even, smooth. "I lost control for a bit. My fault."

The words were meant for everyone, but something about them felt rehearsed. Then, his gaze fixed on me again.

"And Elias," he continued, softer now, almost careful. "I'm truly sorry for how I acted. It was unfair to you. I didn't mean any of it. Don't—don't let it get to you." A pause. "Something snapped, but I'm back now."

The words drifted over me, but they didn't settle. Did he mean them? Or was this just another performance, another mask sliding into place? I barely registered his movement—his arm lifting, reaching toward my shoulder.

But then, an image flashed through my mind—his face from before, twisted with fury, eyes burning with something terrifying.

I flinched.

His hand froze in midair. For the briefest second, I saw something flicker in his expression, something almost human, before it disappeared beneath layers of control. He lowered his arm, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sorry."

It was the first thing he'd said that didn't sound like a practiced lie.

I exhaled slowly, forcing some semblance of calm into my voice. "It's alright. I was unfair too. You don't really bear responsibility for the dead… They were just—" I hesitated, searching for the right words, but all I had were his. "Unfortunate. Like you said."

Rowan's expression didn't shift. If anything, it became even more unreadable, like a wall closing in. Then, with a quiet certainty, he said,

"No. I am responsible—indirectly, at the very least. That's why I was being unfair." He met my eyes, his voice steady but laced with something I couldn't quite place.

"Everything you said had truth to it. And it's not that it doesn't affect me. Of course it does." His fingers twitched at his side. "But I can't afford to slip. Not now."

I swallowed.

My gaze flickered to the others, half-hoping for some kind of intervention. Maybe Alicia, with her quiet steadiness. Maybe Tobias, always armed with a smirk or a sharp remark to break the tension.

But no one spoke. No one moved. They had all decided this wasn't their battle to fight.

I forced a half-hearted shrug. "Things just got a little heated. Don't dwell on it too much." The words felt flimsy, weightless in the charged air between us.

But even as I said them, a gnawing unease settled deep in my gut. Because something told me this moment wouldn't just pass. It would linger, fester, leave cracks in the foundation we had built.

And I wasn't sure if we'd ever be able to fix them.