I take a deep breath, steadying myself.
"I might fail you once. I might fail you a dozen times. But when I do—when you're at that breaking point, when you're ready to give up on me—I need you to remember this moment."
My fingers trace the outline of his brand, careful not to press too hard on the healing skin.
"Remember me, standing here, telling you that I am yours. That this—" I lift my wrist, showing him my tattoo, "—isn't just ink. It's a promise."
Legion's hand covers mine, pressing it more firmly against his chest so I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady.
"I will fight for us," I continue, my voice gaining strength. "I will fight my family, your club, the whole fucking world if I have to. Because I want to make it to the backside of twenty-three with you, Legion. I want to see what we look like when we're old and gray and still choosing each other every single day."
I rise up on my toes, bringing my face closer to his.
"And if that means burning down everything I was supposed to be, then hand me the matches. Because I've spent my whole life being what other people needed me to be. The perfect daughter. The social media darling. The political trophy."
My hands frame his face now, holding him like something precious.
"But with you, I'm just Savannah. And that's enough."
Legion's eyes are so intense they almost burn, searching my face like he's looking for the lie, the angle, the hidden agenda.
He won't find one.
"I know what power looks like, Legion. I was raised in it. Groomed for it. I know how to smile for cameras while plotting behind my eyes. I know how to say the right things to the right people to get exactly what I want."
My thumb traces his bottom lip, feeling the slight roughness there.
"But I've never wanted anything the way I want you. Never needed anything the way I need us."
I let my hands fall to my sides, suddenly vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with my nakedness.
"So yes, I'm choosing this life. I'm choosing you. With my eyes wide open. Knowing it will be hard, and messy, and sometimes dangerous. This isn't a game to me. It's not a rebellion, or a phase, or something to post about. It's my life now.Our life."
I take a deep breath, steadying myself for what I need to say next.
"And I need you to believe that. Not because I say it, but because you feel it. Here." I place my hand over his heart again. "Where it matters."
CHAPTER 11
Twenty-four hours ago we were trying to escape kidnappers.
Now Savannah has my name tattooed on her wrist, my sister had a baby with Colt Ashby, Mercy has a job working in the laundry, and Savannah is standing in front of me naked, telling me she's gonna get it wrong, but I should not give up on her. Because in the end, she'll get it right.
The silence stretches between us, filled only with our breathing and the distant sound of music from downstairs. Savannah has laid herself bare in ways that have nothing to do with skin, and now she waits, exposed and vulnerable, for my response.
My hand covers hers where it rests on my chest. I curl my fingers around her wrist, thumb brushing over the fresh tattoo. My touch is gentle, almost reverent.
"You think I don't know who you are?" I say, my voice low and rough. "You think I don't see you, Savannah?"
I pull her closer, one arm wrapping around her waist.
"I've been watching you since we were kids. I know exactly who you are. The real you—not the one your mother created forher cameras. Not the one Cash tried to sell to the highest bidder. Not the one Marcus thought he could own."
My fingers thread through her damp hair, cradling the back of her head.
"You're the girl who sang 'Ave Maria' in an abandoned grain silo because she thought no one was listening. You're the woman who rode bareback across Ashby land to meet me even though it could cost her everything."
My forehead dips down to touch hers, our breath mingling.
