“They already did,” he said. “Now it’s our turn.”
The spark that lit in my chest wasn’t fear this time—it was something hotter. Sharper. Strategy. Defiance. Power.
God, I loved him for that.
I took a slow breath and looked up at him. “We didn’t get a first dance.”
It was silly. I knew that. There were bigger things—dangerous things—waiting just beyond those doors. But I wanted something small. Something ours.
Nick didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smirk—not at first. He just stepped in close and slid his hand around my waist like it had always belonged there.
“We can fix that.”
His voice was low, rough velvet. The kind of voice that knew how to burn and soothe in the same breath.
And just like that, he pulled me into him—one hand anchoring me close, the other catching my fingers like we’d done this a hundred times before. We moved slowly. No music, no rhythm. Just the sound of our breaths and the thump of my heart catching up to reality.
A dance in an empty hallway.
No witnesses. No gowns or garters or glittering chandeliers.
Just us.
His lips brushed my temple as we swayed. “You’re mine now.”
My eyes fluttered shut as I leaned into him, his heat curling around me like a shield.
“I think I’ve always been,” I whispered.
And I meant it.
Because whatever invisible thread had tied me to him before—through glances and tension and fists slammed against doors—was now a chain forged in something stronger. Something final.
It didn’t matter what the world thought. Or what they’d say tomorrow.
Because today?
He was mine.
And I was done running.
I could see it in his eyes—clear as glass and twice as sharp.
That relentless, bone-deep certainty. That need to protect me like he’d rip the world apart if it ever touched me again.
His arm tightened around my waist, and I felt it in the marrow of my bones: the silent promise that no one would take me from him. Not now. Not ever.
“Whatever happens next,” Nick said, voice low and steady, “we face it together.”
Those words didn’t scare me.
They steadied me.
Because this wasn’t just about vows or titles or bloodstained headlines anymore. This was about standing beside someone who didn’t flinch when the world turned ugly—someone who would burn it all down before letting me fall.
A chill ran through me—not from fear, but from the weight of what we were building. Something messy. Fierce. A little dangerous.
I closed my eyes for half a second, trying to breathe through it all. The noise. The fear. The burn in my chest that said this wasn’t just a fight anymore—it was a reckoning.
