Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Seraphina
Mockingbird – Dutch Melrose
Icling to Trey’s hand, tight enough that my fingers ache, afraid that if I let go—even for a second—he’ll vanish.
Disappear like smoke, and when I open my eyes, I’ll be back in my room.
Back in the chapel. I don’t want to sleep.
My body, traitorous as ever, is trying to drag me under.
So, I squeeze his hand again. Lightly. Then firmer.
He’s still here.
He didn’t disappear.
He’s real.
Even with my pulse thundering in my ears, even with the echo of Gideon’s voice still slicing through my mind, I can feel the thread of safety tethering me to him.
I glance up slowly—it takes effort. His hair is dark, a little messy, a few strands falling into his eyes.
Those impossible green eyes, sharp and observant.
The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showing strong, inked forearms. There’s a cordless phone in his free hand, thumb tapping across it, his expression unreadable—focused.
Before I can stop myself, the words break free, cracked and raw.
“Today… I was supposed to be married.”
Trey freezes.
There’s a small click—the sound of the phone being set down. Then all his attention swings to me, and suddenly the air feels heavier.
“I-It was supposed to end my freedom,” I whisper, voice trembling. “Gideon…and my father…they were going to—”
My voice closes around the rest.
“They were going to what, Seraphina?”
Trey’s free hand balls into a fist on the table, the tendons shifting under tattooed skin. There’s a faint creak, maybe from the wood, maybe from his knuckles. I don’t know. Everything feels tight. Blurred.
I squeeze his hand again, trembling, trying to breathe past the fear clawing at my ribs.
“Trey,” My voice comes out smaller than I intended. “I need you to… marry me.”
For a second everything stops.
The storm behind his eyes—gone.
The air leaves his lungs, slow and measured.
“Sure…” He says after a beat, his tone unreadable. Our palms are slick with sweat, and I feel him try to pull his hand back, but I can’t let go. Not yet. Not until I explain. The words hang between us. My chest pounds so hard it hurts.
“Really?” I ask, hating the way my voice cracks.
Trey lets out a low scoff. “Why do I get the impression that you mean what you said, and think that I do to?”
“You…you don’t want to marry me?”
“Why is that solution number one, Sera?” His voice rises, not angry—bewildered. “Why not, oh, I don’t know, the police?”
“No police!” The words snap out too fast, too sharp. My heart lurches. “They won’t do anything.”
He stares at me. “Why not?”
The room tilts. My stomach twists, a sick, hollow pull. The suffocating weight of it all presses down on my lungs.
I can’t speak. He sees it—the panic—and his expression changes. He pushes back from the table, pacing, muttering under his breath, the words lost in the sound of his boots against the floorboards.
Then he stops.
“Trey?” I whisper.
He turns. His eyes flare bright. For a long moment, the room is nothing but silence—thick, humming silence—and the rasp of my own uneven breathing.
“Why me?” he finally asks. “And why marriage?”
My mouth is dry. The answer tastes like shame and desperation, but I give it anyway.
“Marriage is…absolute. If I’m presumed married, then my father won’t touch me. And Gideon…” my voice falters. “He won’t want me. Not if I’m not…pure.”
Trey blinks. His voice drops low. “You’re serious.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I can’t wait. Please.”
“You mean, right now?”
He drags a hand through his hair, pacing again, the tension rippling through every movement. His boots scuff the floor, the air thick.
“I just…I need safety.” I whisper. “Protection. I know it’s selfish—”
“Selfish?” He barks out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving. “It’s bananas!”
My breath catches. His pacing slows. He crouches in front of me, resting his tattooed hands on his knees. His gaze searches mine, steady and unflinching.
Then, softly. “Lucky for you, I’m a fan of bananas.”
A shaky sound slips out of me—a laugh, or maybe a sob. I don’t even know anymore.
“You’re sure this is the only option? The best one?”
I sniffle and nod, unable to speak.
He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Seraphina Carmicheal…I don’t know much about love. I’ve seen people in it, but me? I’m damaged goods. I’m hilarious and handsome—obviously—but I’m not love or husband material.”
The smallest ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.
“I’ll stay by your side until you find the love that you deserve. Then I’ll divorce you so fast your head will spin.” He pauses, eyes locked on mine. “That being said, Seraphina Carmicheal, I will marry you.”
My throat tightens. For a moment, I can’t speak.
I’m the broken one.
The unworthy one.
The one he shouldn’t want to save.
Still—he says yes.
Trey nods once, slow and deliberate. Then he straightens, voice flat but edged with decision: “Then… we’re doing this. We’re getting married.”
Trey stays crouched in front of me his hands braced on his knees. For a moment he just stares, like he’s holding a dozen words behind his teeth.
Then his jaw shifts. “Seraphina… what do you want from me?” His voice is low, steady. “Not what you need. I already know you need out. But what do you want from this marriage? From me?”
My lips part.
I open them, close them again.
“I…” My throat burns. “Just your protection.”
His eyes search mine. “That’s it?”
I nod, trembling. “I don’t expect you to be my Prince Charming. I don’t expect…” My cheeks burn with shame. “…anything. I’ve never had a relationship. I’ve never even been kissed.”
Trey exhales hard, running a hand through his hair. “So, you’re not asking me to love you?”
“I’m asking you to keep me safe,” I whisper.
He leans in, green eyes sharp as glass. “And if we do this—if the world thinks you’re mine—do you expect me to be faithful to our vow
I shake my head, quick, small. “I don’t expect that from you. I don’t expect you to change who you are. Just…don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend.”
For a heartbeat, something flickers across his face. Not anger. Not pity. Something heavier.
He nods again. “Okay. Then here’s what I promise. I’ll be your shield. No one will touch you without your say-so. I won’t force you into anything. I’ll be your perfect husband.”
My breath catches. “And in public?”
“In public,” he says, voice turning hard, protective, “you’re mine. No one will doubt it. That’s what keeps you safe.”
I swallow, my hands trembling in my lap. “That’s enough.”
He reaches out, brushing a curl from my face, his thumb grazing my cheek. There’s something in his expression—an edge—as if he’s trying to read the parts of me I keep hidden.
“Are you sure this is what you choose?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something raw beneath it. “You and me. Me and you. Together. Out in the world, where people can see.”
I nod slowly. He’s my light, I realize. The crack in the wall I thought I’d never find—the window to freedom I never stopped believing in.
“I’m not gonna keep you locked away,” he says, “You deserve to see things. People. Connections. You’re not gonna be some bird in a cage, or one of those parrots on display…
nah, that’s not right.” He tilts his head, thinking.
“Robin? Because of the red hair? Hmm…too obvious. Cardinal? No, that’s a little on the nose—"
“What are you doing?” I interrupt, half laughing.
“Super important stuff.” He stands, mock serious. “Picking out a pet name for my wife-to-be.”
“Seraphina—or Sera—is fine.”
“Nah. We can do better.” His lips twitch. “You got a favorite birdy?”
I blink, not sure if he’s serious or just being Trey. But somehow in this moment—the way he’s looking at me, the ridiculousness of it all—it makes something in my chest lift.
“I think…doves are cute,” I whisper.
“Doves?” he repeats, like he’s testing the word on his tongue. “Dove it is then. My Dove.” The way he says it makes my breath stutter. My dove. There’s a hint of sin in his smile, a dangerous glint in his eyes that makes my pulse stumble. I feel bare beneath that look.
“So,” he murmurs, voice dipping lower. “Last chance, Dove. You sure about this?”
My chest tightens. “Yes,” I whisper.
I exhale, a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. But Trey’s mind doesn’t stop; I can see it flickering behind his eyes. He’s thinking about logistics, about people, about how to make this happen safely, properly.
“I need to get my band down here,” he mutters almost to himself. “And Mac. I can’t do this alone. We’re…we’re a family. They’ll help.”
I flinch, nervous. “What…what if they don’t like me? What if they…what if they don’t want this for you?” My fingers clutch his shirt again, voice small.
Trey’s jaw quirks, a corner of his lips twitching faintly. “They’ll understand,” he says, firm, protective. “They know what it means. I trust them. And they’ll trust you…eventually.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles. “But right now, you just have to trust me.”
I nod, tiny, careful, letting my forehead rest against his chest. I can feel the steady beat of his heart. The intoxicating smell of his cologne.
He pulls his phone from his pocket, thumbs flying across the screen. “Mac,” he says, clipped but urgent. “Get the jet ready. Everyone. Portland. Now. We’ve got…a situation. You’ll want to be here.”
I watch him, half in awe, half terrified. The way he moves, commanding, protective, thinking ten steps ahead. And I realize…I’m not alone anymore. Not now.
He lowers the phone, voice softer now, eyes sweeping over me. “I’ve got you, Dove. We do this together. All or nothing.”
I nod, trembling, heart hammering. “Together,” I whisper.
“We’ll get you ready. I want you to feel like… like this is really yours. Like you’re safe. We’ll make it official, but first… you need to know it’s really over. Everyone needs to see that you’re mine. My wife,”