Page 214 of Arrow

The possessiveness wrapped around me like armor, like shelter in a storm.

“What now?” I asked, acutely aware that we were standing in a preparation room, hours before our wedding, with my hair half-ruined and my makeup streaked with tears.

Arrow’s thumbs wiped away the moisture on my cheeks. “Now you decide. Knowing everything—about your mother, about why I pursued this marriage—do you still want to go through with it?”

I stared at him, this man who had watched my mother die, who had kept a promise to her for years, who had claimed me in ways both brutal and tender. The man I hated. The man I loved.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “I still want to marry you. But no more secrets, Arrow. No more manipulating my life from the shadows. From now on, we face everything together.”

His smile was slow and dangerous, a predator who’d finally claimed his prey only to find she’d been hunting him all along. “Together,” he agreed, pressing his forehead against mine. “You and me against everyone else.”

I laughed. “I told you, I’m not running anymore.”

Not a lie to survive or a manipulation to gain advantage, but a truth that came from somewhere deeper than fear.

Arrow’s smile was like watching a predator decide you were worth keeping alive—terrifying and thrilling in equal measure. He kissed me again, gentler this time, his hand sliding to the back of my neck.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” he murmured against my lips.

I laughed despite myself, pulling back to examine the damage in the mirror. My carefully applied makeup was streaked with tears, mascara smudged beneath my eyes. “You should go,” I said, though I made no move to push him away. “Before Luna comes back and drags you out by your ear.”

He nodded, but his hands remained on my waist. “I’ll be waiting for you at the altar.”

“I’ll be the one in white,” I replied with a small smile.

Arrow’s expression grew serious. “Whatever your father has planned, whatever happens today—remember that you chose this. You chose me.”

“I chose us,” I corrected. “Against everyone else.”

When he finally left, I sank back into the stylist’s chair, emotionally drained but strangely at peace. The revelation about my mother should have destroyed me, should have made me hate Arrow for keeping such a secret. Instead, it had only confirmed what I’d begun to suspect—that beneath the violence and manipulation that defined our world, Arrow had been the one constant, the one person who had seen me clearly.

Luna returned with the stylists, her eyes widening at the state of my makeup. “Oh my God!” she gasped. “I see the conversation went well.”

I tried to stifle my laughter, but failed. “It was . . . informative.”

The stylist clucked her tongue, assessing the damage to my carefully applied makeup. “We’ll need to start over,” she sighed.

“Not completely,” Luna assured her. “Just touch up the eyes and lips. Maybe a little touch-up on the foundation.”

As the stylist went to work repairing my face, Luna perched on the edge of a nearby chair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “But I’m okay. Better than okay, actually.”

Luna studied me, her eyes searching my face. “You look different.”

“Different how?”

“Lighter,” she decided. “Like you’ve put down something heavy you’ve been carrying.”

I smiled, careful not to move too much as the stylist dabbed at my eyes with makeup remover. “That’s exactly how it feels.”

After my makeup was repaired and my hair fixed, time seemed to speed up, minutes blurring together as I was helped into my dress, my veil arranged, my shoes fastened.

When everything was finally in place, Luna handed me a small gift bag. “From Arrow,” she said. “He asked me to give this to you now.”

I opened it to find a velvet jewelry box first. Inside the box were a pair of diamond earrings—not ostentatious, but elegant, with a single teardrop diamond dangling from each stud. I recognized them immediately. They were my mother’s.

“Something old,” Luna whispered.