“No, Miss Black, no problem. Enjoy your evening,” the agent finally says. He steps back, and the other agents follow, disappearing into the crowd.
The moment they’re gone, I turn to the boys.
“We’re leaving,” I announce.
I don’t wait for their response, just turn on my heel and walk toward the exit, knowing they’ll follow.
And they do.
Dredyn falls into step on my right, Talon on my left, Jasper just behind—a formation that’s both protective and possessive. We move as one unit through the ballroom. Past tables of staring guests, past my mother’s horrified expression, past the cameras and phones all documenting our exit.
We push through the main doors and out into the January night. The cold hits like a slap, but I don’t stop walking until we’re down the steps and on the sidewalk, far enough from the hotel that we can breathe.
“Holy shit. You just publicly claimed us in front of the entire political establishment,” Talon says, sounding equal parts impressed and alarmed.
“Yes.”
“Your father is going to lose his mind,” Dredyn adds.
“Probably.”
“That was hot as fuck. But also possibly suicidal.”
“Definitely both.” I turn to face them, adrenaline still singing through my veins. “But I’m done hiding; I’m done pretending. They can’t make me marry Chase because Chase is dead, and they can’t make me choose someone else because I already chose. I chose you—all three of you.”
“Mara...” Talon starts.
“I know it’s dangerous. I know it paints a target on all of us. But standing in that ballroom, watching them try to remove you, pretending you don’t matter to me…” I shake my head. “I couldn’t do it. Iwon’tdo it.”
“Then we’d better grab the car. Because in about thirty seconds, that ballroom is going to erupt and we need to be long gone before anyone can stop us.”
As if on cue, my phone starts buzzing.
Zane:
BABE. You’re trending on Twitter. #MaraBlack is number one.
I swipe it away and look up at the boys. “How fast can we get out of D.C.?”
“Rook’s got a car two blocks over. He can be here in five minutes,” Dredyn says
“Make it three,” I say. “I have a feeling we’re about to have company.”
Talon’s already shrugging out of his jacket, draping it over my shoulders against the cold. “Where are we going?”
“Home.”
A sleek, black SUV pulls up to the curb, Rook behind the wheel, engine running. We pile in, and he pulls away from the hotel before anyone can stop us.
As we drive through D.C., I pull out my phone and check Twitter.
Zane wasn’t kidding. #MaraBlack is trending, along with #OCK and #PresidentsRebellion.
The photos and videos are already everywhere. The captions range from supportive to scandalized.
“President’s daughter stands up for her friends—iconic”
“Mara Black publicly defies Secret Service to defend OCK officers”
