We stare at each other across the room, and the tension between us is thick enough to cut. I want to cross to her, to pull her into my arms, to kiss her until she forgets every reason this is a terrible idea. But I force myself to stay where I am.
"Have you made your decision?" My voice comes out rougher than I intended.
Alina wraps her arms around herself, a defensive gesture that makes something in my chest tighten. "I'll marry you."
Relief floods through me, so intense it's almost painful. But before I can respond, she continues.
"On one condition."
Of course there's a condition. This is Alina, after all. She doesn't surrender easily.
"Name it," I say.
She takes a deep breath, and I see her gathering her courage. "When this is over, when the threat has passed and things are stable again, you have to let me go. You have to give me my freedom."
The request hits me like a punch to the gut. She's agreeing to marry me, to bind herself to me legally and traditionally, but she's already planning her escape. Already counting the days until she can leave.
I should lie. I should tell her yes, of course, whatever she wants. I should say the words that will make her agree without hesitation. But when I look into those green eyes, when I see the hope and fear warring in her expression, I find I can't do it.
"I can't promise that." The words taste like ash in my mouth. "The world we live in doesn't work that way, Alina. Once you're my wife, once you bear my name, you're part of this life. There's no walking away from it."
I expect anger. I expect her to throw my honesty back in my face, to refuse the marriage, to demand I take her home right now. But instead, she just nods slowly, as if she expected this answer all along.
"I know," she says quietly. "I just needed to hear you say it. Needed to know you wouldn't lie to me."
Something shifts between us in that moment. An understanding, maybe. Or an acknowledgment of the impossible situation we're both trapped in.
"I won't lie to you," I tell her, taking a step closer. "Not about this. Not about us. You deserve at least that much honesty."
She studies my face, searching for something. Truth, maybe. Or proof that I'm the monster everyone says I am. I let her look, keeping my expression open.
"I'm ready," she finally says, her voice steady despite the fear I can see in her eyes. "Let's do this."
The relief that washes over me is so intense I have to lock my knees to keep from swaying. She's agreeing. She's choosing this, choosing me, even knowing what it means.
"I'll make the arrangements," I say, pulling out my phone. "We can do it this morning. Private ceremony with just a few witnesses. I know a priest who owes me favors."
Alina nods, but I see her hands trembling slightly. She's terrified, and she's trying so hard not to show it. The urge to comfort her, to promise her everything will be okay, is almost overwhelming.
"Alina." I cross the room to her, unable to maintain the distance any longer. "I know this isn't what you wanted. I know I'm not who you would have chosen. But I swear to you, I will protect you. I will keep you safe.
"I'm sorry it’s come to this and that your life, as you knew it, is over. But I'm also not sorry, because if I hadn't taken you from that church, you'd be dead right now. Or worse."
"Worse than being married to you?" There's a hint of bitter humor in her voice.
"Much worse." I reach up and cup her face, my thumb brushing across her cheekbone. "There are men in this world who would use you, break you, destroy everything that makes you who you are. I'm not one of them."
"How do I know that?"
"You don't." I lean closer, until our faces are inches apart. "You'll have to trust me. Or at least trust that I have too much invested in keeping you alive and whole to damage you."
She laughs, a short, sharp sound. "That's not exactly romantic."
"I'm not a romantic man, Alina. I'm a realist. But I can promise you this. As my wife, you'll be the most protected woman in this city. No one will dare touch you. No one will dare threaten you. And anyone who tries will answer to me."
I see something flicker in her eyes. Maybe the beginning of trust. Or at least acceptance.
"Okay," she whispers. "Okay."
