Page 17 of Razor
Elvis guided us through the standard vows and then asked if we wanted to add personal ones.I hadn't planned for this, but words came anyway.
"Your fight is my fight now," I said, holding her hands in mine, feeling the slight tremble in her fingers."You and Dante are my family, and I protect what's mine.No one will hurt either of you again.That's my promise."
I meant every word, surprising myself with the depth of my commitment.
Ophelia's eyes shimmered with unshed tears."I promise to trust you," she said softly."To build something real with you, even though this started...differently than most.To make a home with you, for Dante and for us."
Elvis beamed, completely misreading our situation as some great romance, which was probably for the best."By the power vested in me by the great state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife.You may kiss your bride, thank you very much."
I hesitated, unsure how Ophelia would feel about this part.But she leaned forward slightly, giving permission.I kept the kiss light, respectful—just a brief press of lips.But even that simple contact sent an unexpected current through me, a connection I hadn't anticipated.
When we separated, Dante was clapping excitedly, his dinosaur clutched to his chest."Are we a family now?"he asked, looking between us with hopeful eyes.
"Yeah, little man," I answered, surprising myself again with how right it felt to say it."We're a family now."
As we signed the marriage certificate, making official what had started as a practical arrangement, I caught Ophelia watching me with a warmth in her eyes I hadn't seen before.Not only gratitude or relief, but cautious affection tangled beneath it.
This wasn't the life I'd planned.Not even close.But standing there with my new wife and the boy who now legally called me stepdad, I realized it might be exactly the life I needed.
CHAPTER THREE
Ophelia
I slipped out of Dante's room, easing the door shut behind me with practiced silence.My fingers lingered on the handle, listening for any sound that might indicate he'd woken.Nothing.Just the steady, soft breathing of exhausted childhood sleep.Four years of hypervigilance had trained me to move like a ghost through darkened rooms, to sense potential danger before it materialized.But tonight, the only danger was in my racing thoughts, in the reality of what waited for me beyond this door—my new husband, our wedding night, and a marriage built on necessity rather than love.
The plush carpet muffled my footsteps as I moved through the short connecting hallway of our honeymoon suite.My body felt like lead, the adrenaline that had carried me through our escape, the flight, and the wedding finally draining away, leaving bone-deep exhaustion in its wake.Yet my mind wouldn't quiet, wouldn't let me relax fully, even here.
When I entered the main room, Razor stood by the minibar, his back to me.He'd removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, the formal clothes making him look more dangerous than his usual leather cut.The muscles in his forearms flexed as he opened a bottle of whiskey.
"He's asleep?"Razor asked without turning around.
"Out cold."My voice sounded thin, uncertain."The excitement wore him out."
Razor turned then, a bottle of champagne in one hand, his expression unreadable in the dim light."Figured we should celebrate.Not every day a man gets married."
A sharp pop echoed through the room as he twisted the cork free.I flinched at the sudden noise, my shoulders hunching automatically, body bracing for violence instead of harmless carbonation.Old habits.Tyler had loved making sudden, startling noises, watching me jump before mocking my fear.
But Razor's eyes caught the movement, his expression softening."Sorry," he said simply, pouring the foaming liquid into two flutes without further comment on my reaction.
I crossed the room on unsteady legs, lowering myself to sit on the edge of the king-sized bed.The mattress gave beneath my weight, luxuriously soft compared to the motel bed we'd left that morning.Strange how much could change in a single day.This morning I'd been a fugitive with a fake ID.Now I was Mrs.Hernandez, legally married to a man I barely knew.
Razor handed me a glass, then sat beside me, leaving a careful distance between actibiyyus.The champagne bubbles caught the neon light filtering through the curtains—flashes of red, blue, and gold dancing across the surface like miniature fireworks.Outside, the Strip hummed with endless activity but, in here, the only sound was our breathing and the gentle fizz of alcohol.
"To new beginnings," Razor said, raising his glass slightly.
I nodded, touching my flute to his.The crystal made a pure, clean sound that hung in the air between us.I took a small sip, the champagne sharp and cold on my tongue.My fingers wrapped tightly around the stem, so cold they almost ached.
"We should talk," Razor said after a moment."About what happens now."
I stared at the champagne, watching the bubbles rise and burst."Okay."
"Look at me, Ophelia."
The gentle command in his voice pulled my eyes to his.In the colored light from the window, his face was all angles and shadows, but his eyes remained clear, direct.
"This marriage," he began, his voice low and steady, "it might have started as a way to protect you and Dante, but I need you to understand something."
My heart hammered against my ribs, pulse pounding hard at my throat.I took another sip of champagne, needing an excuse to keep my hands occupied when they wouldn't stop trembling.
