The city outside the windshield blurred into streaks of neon and shadow as Julian pulled back onto the road. Savannah sat beside him in stunned silence, the thick folder still in her lap. Evidence. Proof. A blueprint for war.
And yet, something heavier lingered in the space between them.
Not the chaos they'd fled.
Not even the weight of the secrets Julian had finally started to unveil.
Something more intimate. More irreversible.
Savannah didn't speak as they drove. She didn't have to.
Julian's fingers gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, his jaw tight, his profile etched in tension. But when he finally turned down a narrow, unmarked road outside the city's industrial perimeter, Savannah leaned forward.
"Where are we going?"
"A safe house," he said. "One only Damien and I knew about. Until now."
She raised a brow. "And you're sure it's still secure?"
He glanced at her, something unreadable in his gaze. "I'm not taking any more chances with your life."
The words settled in her chest like a slow flame.
They pulled up to a low, nondescript building camouflaged behind a rusted gate and ivy-covered walls. The moment they stepped inside, Savannah scanned the space—minimalist furniture, state-of-the-art security monitors, reinforced steel doors. A silent fortress.
Julian locked the door behind them, then crossed to the kitchen. He poured water into two glasses with shaking hands. When he handed one to her, their fingers brushed.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
Savannah met his gaze. "No. But I will be."
He nodded, then hesitated—like the words he was holding were too heavy to release. She could feel it in the air between them. That charged anticipation.
And then he said it.
"You need protection."
Savannah blinked. "Excuse me?"
Julian took a deep breath and set his glass down. "What happened tonight proves that Damien will stop at nothing. You're not just a liability anymore. You're a threat to him, Savannah. One he'll want to erase."
She crossed her arms. "And what, exactly, are you suggesting?"
He stepped closer, his voice low. "I can't shield you from this by just moving you around safe houses or planting security. That's not enough anymore."
Savannah arched a brow. "Then what is enough?"
Julian looked her dead in the eye. "Marry me."
The words landed like a thunderclap.
She stared at him, certain she'd misheard. "What?"
"Marry me," he repeated. "Tonight. Quietly. Legally."
She laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious in my life."
Savannah backed away a step. "Julian, that's insane. You think putting a ring on my finger is going to keep me safe from your brother?"
"Yes," he said simply. "Because it changes everything. Legally, emotionally, strategically."
She gaped. "Emotionally?"
His throat worked. "He won't be able to touch you without sparking a media war. You'll be entitled to protections as my wife. Asset access. Legal counsel. Power. You'll have leverage he can't erase with a bullet or a smear campaign."
She shook her head. "You want to use marriage like a corporate merger."
"I want to use it to protect you," he said, stepping forward. "To bind you to something bigger than the chaos Damien is trying to unleash."
Savannah's heart pounded. "Julian, marriage isn't a shield."
"It can be," he said. "For now."
She narrowed her eyes. "So what—this is a temporary fix? A fake marriage to buy us time?"
He hesitated. "It starts that way."
"And ends how?"
Julian looked at her then—truly looked. His mask was gone. What she saw beneath it wasn't control or calculation.
It was fear. It was hope.
It was want.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a velvet box. Simple. Unassuming.
When he opened it, the ring inside took her breath away.
Not because it was massive or gaudy—it wasn't. It was elegant. Delicate. A single sapphire flanked by moonstone. Cold fire trapped in silver.
"I had it made," he said. "Long before I had the right to offer it."
Savannah's voice was a whisper. "Why?"
"Because I knew," he said. "Even when I tried not to. Even when you hated me."
She stared at the ring, the weight of it more than just stone and metal.
This wasn't about protection.
Not really.
It was about surrender. About trust. About tying herself to a man who had only begun to unravel his truths.
"Julian… I don't know if I can do this," she whispered.
He stepped forward, reaching for her hand.
"I'm not asking you to love me," he said. "I'm asking you to survive this with me. I'm asking you to stand beside me so we can take him down together. Not as allies. Not even as lovers. But as something untouchable."
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
He was right. If she became his wife—even just on paper—Damien wouldn't be able to touch her without risking a war. Publicly, politically, financially. It would give them breathing room.
And maybe, deep down, it meant something to Julian, too.
Savannah looked up at him.
His eyes held no manipulation. Just the truth.
A dangerous, fragile, burning truth.
"Okay," she said softly. "Let's do it."
He stared at her. "You're sure?"
"No," she said honestly. "But I'm willing to find out."
He didn't kiss her.
He didn't need to.
Instead, he slid the ring onto her finger with a reverence that stole her breath.
"I'll call the judge," he said.
And she stood there, staring down at the ring, at the shimmer of blue and silver against her skin.
A symbol. A promise.
A vow—tarnished, maybe.
But not broken.
Not yet.
********
The silence after her "yes" was deafening.
Julian hadn't expected her to agree so quickly. Neither had Savannah. But there was something in the air between them—volatile, magnetic—that defied logic and left only instinct behind.
He pulled out his phone, fingers steady even as his shoulders remained rigid with tension. "I know someone. A judge who owes me a favor. He can officiate. Confidentially."
"Of course he can," Savannah murmured, eyes fixed on the ring now gleaming on her finger. It was beautiful. Subtle. Dangerous. Like the man who had given it to her.
Julian paused, watching her carefully. "You can still back out. You're not trapped."
Savannah met his gaze. "I said yes. I don't do that lightly."
Something flickered across his face—relief, maybe. Or regret.
Within the hour, the judge arrived at the safe house. He was older, with thinning hair and tired eyes that flicked between the two of them with faint curiosity but zero judgment. Clearly, he'd seen worse unions.
They signed the documents in silence. Savannah's signature bled across the page in looping black ink, her heart thudding as the final stroke finished. Final. Permanent. Binding.
Julian signed next, jaw tight, lips pressed in a hard line.
The judge didn't ask questions. Just nodded once, sealed the envelope, and handed them the copies. "It's done. You're legally married as of now. I'll handle the rest."
"Thank you," Julian said gruffly, walking him to the door.
Savannah stood in the living room, still holding the envelope in her hands.
Mrs. Savannah Thorne.
She whispered it under her breath. It didn't feel real. Not yet. Not entirely.
Julian returned, his expression unreadable as he looked at her across the room.
She was the first to break the silence. "That's it? Just like that, I'm your wife?"
His gaze flicked to the envelope, then to her eyes. "On paper, yes. But in truth… I don't know what this makes us."
Savannah bit the inside of her cheek. "It makes us targets. But maybe it makes us allies too."
His expression shifted—something warmer, something rough. "You've always been more than that, Savannah. That's what scares me."
The tension snapped taut again, thick with unspoken things. She moved to the window, staring out into the darkness. Somewhere out there, Damien was planning his next strike. And here she was, newly married to his brother in a marriage neither of them could afford to believe in—or ignore.
Julian joined her at the window, his voice low. "You don't have to stay here. I'll put you in another safe house. I'll keep a distance if that's what you want."
She turned to him, eyes sharp. "We're already in this together. If we start acting like strangers, it'll fall apart before we can even fight back."
He nodded slowly. "Then stay. At least until we figure out our next move."
She took a step closer. "You really think marrying me will stop Damien?"
"I think it slows him down," Julian admitted. "Makes it harder for him to strike without consequences. It's not a shield—it's a weapon."
She arched a brow. "And what happens when the weapon starts cutting both ways?"
His gaze dropped to her lips before snapping back up. "Then we'll bleed together."
Savannah's throat tightened. "You're still hiding something. I can feel it."
Julian didn't flinch. "There are things I've buried so deep, Savannah, I'm not sure digging them up wouldn't bury you too."
"I've survived worse than secrets," she said softly.
He studied her face for a long moment. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a second file—thinner than the first.
He handed it to her without a word.
Inside was a photograph.
Her mother.
But not from any image Savannah had seen before. This wasn't a smiling portrait or a family snapshot. It was surveillance—grainy, taken from across the street, with a time stamp dated six months ago.
Savannah's breath left her in a gasp. "This… this isn't possible. My mother died when I was thirteen."
Julian nodded grimly. "That's what you were told. But your mother didn't die, Savannah."
He looked her straight in the eyes.
"She disappeared. Just like your aunt."
Savannah's knees buckled slightly. Julian caught her elbow, steadying her.
"Why… why would she lie?" Savannah whispered, reeling.
"I don't know," Julian said. "But Damien knew. He has files that reference both of them—Margot and your mother. Something called The Hale Initiative. I haven't cracked the encryption yet."
Savannah's pulse pounded like war drums in her chest.
"So I married into a conspiracy I was born into."
Julian gave a dark smile. "Welcome to the family."
She shoved the file away, breath ragged. "We have to find her."
"We will," he promised. "But not tonight. Tonight, you need rest."
She hesitated, then finally nodded. "Where do I sleep?"
A flicker of hesitation passed through Julian. "There's a guest room. But if you want to—"
"I'll take the guest room," she said quickly, though something in her chest ached at the choice.
He nodded. "Of course."
But as she walked away, she paused in the doorway and glanced back.
"Julian?"
He looked up from the table where he was sifting through more documents.
"If this turns out to be a mistake—"
"It won't be," he said, voice quiet but certain.
She held his gaze for a beat longer, then disappeared down the hallway.
Behind her, Julian stared at the marriage certificate. Not with regret.
But with fear.
Because for the first time in his life, he'd tethered himself to something real.
And if Damien took Savannah from him—
There would be no going back.