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"Probably." He takes another drink. "But I'm also the only reason you're alive right now."

"So your solution to them wanting to kill me is to force me into a marriage I don't want?" My voice is rising, hysteria creeping in at the edges. "How is that better?"

"It's better because you're alive," he snaps back. "It's better because the alternative was watching them put a bullet in your head and dump you in the Hudson. It's better because at least this way, you have a chance."

"A chance at what? Being your property?"

His jaw clenches. "You're not my property. But you are my responsibility. And yes, that comes with certain... obligations. On both our parts."

I stand abruptly, needing to move, to pace, to do something with the adrenaline flooding my system. "This is insane. This is—I can't—I don't even know you."

"You know me well enough to let me fuck you," he says, and the crudeness of it makes me flinch.

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because that was my choice!" The words come out louder than I intend, echoing in the minimalist space. "Because I wanted to. Because it felt good and right and like something I was choosing for myself. This—" I gesture wildly between us. "This is you telling me I have to marry you or die. That's not a choice. That's coercion."

"I know." His voice softens slightly, some of the anger bleeding out. "I know it's not fair. I know this isn't what you wanted. But Elara, I need you to understand—if we don't do this, if we don't make this binding official within twenty-four hours, the protection I just bought you becomes void. And they will kill you. They will hunt you down and kill you, and there won't be anything I can do to stop them."

The certainty in his voice makes my blood run cold.

I sink back onto the couch, my head in my hands. "Why were you even there? At the club. Are you—" The thought that's been lurking in the back of my mind finally surfaces. "Are you part of them? The Veritas? Are you one of the people who⁠—"

"I'm not one of them," he says harshly. "I'm owned by them. There's a difference."

I look up. "What does that mean?"

He sets his glass down with more force than necessary, the crystal thudding against wood. "It means I tried to leave. Eight years ago. I faked my death, changed my name, disappeared to Europe. I thought I'd finally gotten free. And then they found me. Dragged me back. Gave me a choice—serve ten years at Belgrave as penance, or die for real this time."

The revelation hits me like cold water. "You're a prisoner."

"In every way that matters, yes." He laughs, bitter and sharp. "Atticus Drexel died in a boating accident. Alexander Draven was born. And for eight years, I've been counting down the days until I could disappear again. Until I could be free."

"Eight years," I repeat. "So you had two years left."

"Had being the operative word." He meets my eyes, and there's something raw in his expression. "Because tonight, when they told me the only way to save you was to take on your debt, I extended my sentence. Indefinitely."

The word doesn't make sense at first. "Indefinitely?"

"Forever, Elara. I serve the Veritas Order forever. Until they decide I've paid my debt or until I die, whichever comes first. No end date. No escape plan. No freedom."

The weight of what he's saying crashes over me. "You gave up your freedom. For me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because—" He stops, jaw working. "Because the alternative was unacceptable."

I should feel grateful. I should feel touched. Instead, I feel sick with guilt and confusion and a strange, desperate anger at the universe for putting us in this position.

"I don't understand," I whisper. "Why would you do that? Why would you sacrifice everything for someone you barely know?"

He crosses the distance between us in two strides, kneeling in front of me so we're eye level. His hands come up to frame my face, forcing me to look at him.

"Because you're mine," he says simply. "Because the moment I saw you in that ballroom, something in me recognized something in you. Because every time I look at you, I see a future I didn't know I wanted. Because the idea of you not existing in this world is unbearable to me."