“Last one—outside these walls? I speak for you. That’s appearances. That’s how you stay untouchable.”
My gaze shoots back to his, still stern, still merciless, still commanding. I hate how the gray taking over the sides of his dark hair gives him all the more authority. And how that signals to my brain that he knows what he’s talking about.
His arms uncross, and we’re in a standoff. I’ve been without my voice for so long, and I finally broke free of it. There’s no way I can go back. I’ll shrivel up and die inside.
“What happens if I talk out of turn?”
“Then someone decides you’re weak. And they try to claim you. And I kill them.” The weight of it hits me again. Saint is promising to kill anyone who tries to hurt me. Like a real husband might.
But it’s not real. So why? Image? Pride? Honor? Why go through the trouble if I’m this much of a burden?
“So, we put a ring on you today. Not because you belong to me. But because it makes you untouchable to anyone who wants leverage.”
My chest caves in on itself a little. Can I do this?
“Grant is looking for you, and this will keep him from dragging you back. Making you part of the family.”
I suck in a slow breath and nod again. My past sinks its nails into me, yanking me back into survival mode—the place I’ve spent most of my time simply trying to survive the expectations of being Ronan Delaney’s daughter.
Numb spreads, and so do his hands down my shoulders. “Let’s get you upstairs and fill your belly before the justice gets here.”
That sends a jolt through my heart. “I’m marrying you in this?”
He stills, big and intimidating.
“Unless you want to put that back on.” He points to my tattered and dirty wedding dress.
A small bit of horror builds in my chest. I shake my head. No, I don’t want to wear that. As beautiful as it was, it’s an omen of something I never wanted.
An hour later, I’m standing in front of Saint again. This time, with witnesses—Judge and Doc. Sin leans against the wall, watching.
We’re sequestered in Saint’s office, and the five men take up so much space that I struggle against claustrophobia. Panic and numb chase each other, and before I know it Saint has my shaking hands in his steady grip.
Those hazel eyes pierce me as the justice gives us the perfunctory notes—“for protection,” “for safety”—but the eye contact makes it feelreal.
When he says my name, my heart stutters.
I say “I do,” voice trembling but clear.
He doesn’t kiss me, just lowers his head close enough for me that his beard tickles against my cheek, and he whispers, “You’re safe here, Wren. For now.”
He’s the embodiment of safety and danger all tangled together.
I notice Sin’s smirk from across the room, eyes on my new husband’s ring on my finger.
I married one man, but three of them are already inside my head.
8
WREN
After the ceremony, Saint deposits me in the bar and introduces me to Pixie, the only female I’ve seen milling about with a vest on. Does that make her part of the family? She’s the only one not trying to get one of the men’s attention.
Pixie’s dressed in clothes identical to mine, but she’s much smaller than me, so they’re not as obscene on her as they are on me. I’m glad the oversized vest comes down to my knees. Besides, the weight on my left hand is more distracting than how much of my thick thighs are on display.
“Hey, Mrs. Saint. You look like you’ve been hit by a truck made of sin and confusion.”
Sin. Such a good choice of words. His gaze prickles awareness that I can’t acknowledge.
