Chapter 11 – Lance #2
"You think I wanted this?" I growled, my own temper flaring, my hands gripping the railing so hard the metal groaned beneath my fingers. "You think I wanted to drag her into my nightmare? To watch her look at me like I'm a monster?"
"Then let her go. Run. Hide."
I laughed, the sound dark and hollow. "They'll find us," I said, the certainty in my voice leaving no room for argument. "They always do. There is no running from this."
"And so you're making her your prisoner instead," Gwen snarled.
"I'm making her my wife ." The possessive word slipped out before I could stop it, primal and raw.
"Same difference," she spat.
"Don't you fucking dare," I growled, moving closer, towering over her. "Don't pretend I'm taking pleasure in this. I’d rather my future wife be willing."
Gwen didn't back down an inch. "And after you've played happy family with my sister? After you've paraded her in front of your psychotic relatives? What then?"
"Then I handle them."
"Like you've handled everything so far?" she challenged, voice dripping with disdain.
The accusation stung because it held truth. I'd failed. Failed to keep my past buried. Failed to protect Morgan. Failed to be the man Gwen believed I was.
"I've never done anything more right in my life than loving her," I said, the admission tearing from me like a confession. "My life is already forfeit if I fail to protect her."
Gwen stepped closer, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "If anything happens to my sister, I will kill you myself. Do you understand me? I don't care what you are, what you've done. I'll find a way."
I met her gaze steadily. "If anything happens to her, you won't have to. I'll already be dead."
We stood there, locked in a silent standoff, both of us fighting for the woman we loved.
"This is rich coming from you," I finally said, unable to stop myself. "You married Atticus in an arranged marriage to save Morgan from having to marry him. You sacrificed yourself to protect her."
"And you interrogated me for weeks!" she shot back. "Don't you remember? 'Are you sure, Gwen?' 'Do you know what you're doing?' 'Have you thought this through?' You wouldn't let it go—questioning every decision I made, demanding to know if I was being forced."
She jabbed a finger into my chest. "You were so fucking concerned about my agency, my choice—but now you're doing exactly what our father tried to do! Forcing my sister into a marriage because it's 'for her own good.'"
"It's not the same," I snarled.
"It's exactly the same," Gwen shouted, her voice carrying across the balcony. "Another man deciding her future, taking away her choice!"
"I'm not doing this to control her," I said, my voice dropping dangerously low. "I'm doing this to keep her alive."
"With pretty chains instead of ugly ones." Her lip curled in disgust. "I married Atticus to protect her from a life she didn't choose. And now you're forcing her into exactly that kind of life. Except instead of a corporate empire, it's a criminal one."
She took a shuddering breath. "How many times did you hold me when I cried, Lance? When I thought I'd ruined my life by marrying a man I didn't know? When I was terrified that I'd made the biggest mistake of my life? And now you're putting Morgan through that same hell!"
The distinction hit home, painful in its accuracy. Morgan wasn't choosing me. She was choosing survival.
She's my sister—my family. After everything, I just can’t lose her to danger I can’t protect her from. Can you honestly promise she’ll be safe with you?
That's when I realized—this wasn't just about my lies. This was about loss. About Gwen watching her sister walk into danger and being powerless to stop it.
"I'm not taking her from you," I said, forcing my voice to gentleness even as rage and guilt battled within me. "I'm keeping her alive."
"You were family to me," she said, the first tear finally escaping to track down her cheek. "I trusted you with everything. With my sister. With my child."
The past tense wasn't lost on me. Were . Not are.
"I'm still me, Gwen."
She shook her head slowly. "No. The Lance I knew wouldn't have kept this from me. Wouldn't have let me bring my sister into this world blind."
"If I could change it?—"
"But you can't." She wiped away her tear with an angry swipe. "You can't change who you are or what you've done. And now my sister is paying the price."
The weight of her condemnation settled over me like a shroud. For a decade, Gwen had been my anchor. My family when I had none. The one person who'd seen good in me when I couldn't see it in myself.
And now I'd lost her too.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. The words felt pathetically inadequate.
"Sorry doesn't fix this," she said, her eyes meeting mine, filled with grief that mirrored my own. "If you were truly sorry, you'd find another way."
She turned, hand on the door, then paused. "I loved you like a brother," she said, not looking back. "Remember that when you're bringing my sister into your war."
The door slid open, and she was gone.