Chapter 4 Shelby #2
This morning, I held her in my arms. I watched her sleep, her vulnerable side exposed in a way I’m sure she rarely allows herself to be. And now she’s standing in my kitchen, asking me to save her from a monster.
How can I say no to this?
“If I say yes…” I pause. When hope lights up her expression, I shake my head and add, “I’m not agreeing yet. What are you proposing exactly?”
“Vegas. Tomorrow, if possible. We get married fast, before my father can interfere. Then we come back and announce it as a fait accompli. I move in here to make it look legitimate. We play the part of a real couple in public, so everyone sees how in love we are. That way, nobody will think the marriage is fake.”
“And in private?”
“In private, we figure it out as we go.” She searches my face, looking for any sign of what I’m thinking. “I’m not asking you to love me. I’m asking you to help me escape a trap set by a monster. And maybe we help each other vanquish the demons we’re carrying inside.”
The demons we’re carrying inside.
She understands. She gets it in a way that most people don’t. She knows that the worst monsters aren’t the ones chasing us. They’re the ones we carry with us. The ghosts. The failures. The moments we can’t take back.
I remember Russia and the children I couldn’t save, the way I froze when it mattered most.
I think about Syria. About Abeera’s hand reaching out as the building came down.
Hamid comes to mind, the good man who translated for the Marines in Kabul for more than three years. The night the Taliban killed him never leaves my mind, nor the way his wife and kids wailed when I gave them the news.
I think about all the ways I’ve failed people who counted on me.
And then I look at Serena, standing in my kitchen in her designer dress, asking me to protect her from a predator who thinks he already owns her.
Maybe I can’t save everyone. Maybe I’m broken in ways that will never fully heal.
But I can save her.
“You trust me,” I finally say, and it’s not quite a question.
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because Joe trusts you, and Joe is the best man I know.” Her thumb strokes across my cheekbone again in a gesture that’s becoming familiar.
“Because Dave trusts you with Syndicate operations. Because you came back from Russia bleeding and broken, and instead of medicating it away or pretending you’re fine, you admitted you need help.
” She pauses. “And because when you look at me, you see a person. Not an asset to be acquired. A person.”
Something in my chest cracks open at her words.
When did anyone last see me as a person? Not a weapon. Not a tool. Not a broken Marine who needs fixing.
Just... a person.
“You don’t have to answer now,” she says quickly, before I can respond. “Think about it tonight. I know I’m asking for something huge. But Shelby, I’m running out of options, and you’re the only person I trust enough even to ask.”
I pull her closer, my forehead resting against hers, as we breathe the same air. Trying to figure out if we’re brave enough—or crazy enough—to actually do this.
“If I do this,” I say quietly, “if I marry you, I’m all in. I don’t do anything halfway. Fake or not, you’ll be mine, and I’ll be yours. I’ll protect you with everything I have.”
Even from myself, if necessary. I keep that last one to myself.
Her heart is pounding against my chest. “Is this a yes?”
“That’s a ‘let-me-think-overnight’, a non-committal answer. I’ll give you my decision tomorrow morning.” I pull back to look at her properly. “This isn’t something I can take lightly. This affects both our families, our futures, everything.”
“I know.”
“But for what it’s worth?” I whisper as something dark and possessive rises in me.
It’s a feeling that should scare me, but it doesn’t.
At all. So I promise her, “Cesare Dellamare doesn’t deserve to keep breathing.
Whether I marry you or not, he touched you without permission.
That doesn’t go unpunished in our world. ”
The fierce protectiveness in my own voice surprises me. But Serena doesn’t look fazed. She seems relieved. Like she’s been carrying this weight alone for too long, and I’ve just offered to shoulder it.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Stay tonight,” I hear myself say. “Not for—just stay. Sleep in the guest room. I need to make sure you’re safe tonight.”
She nods, and I lead her to the bedroom I didn’t show her last night. It’s simple and elegant, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of Boston lit up against the night sky.
“There are clothes in the closet if you need them,” I say from the doorway. “Bathroom’s through there. And Serena?”
“Yes?”
“Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever I decide, I promise you that you’re not alone in this anymore. Understand?”
She nods, a spark glinting in her eyes.
I close the door and head back to my own room, but sleep doesn’t come easily. I lie in the dark, thinking about Serena in the guest room down the hall. Thinking about Cesare Dellamare and the way he treated her like she was property that he had just acquired.
Thinking about what it would mean to marry her, to tie myself to another person when I can barely trust myself.
But mostly, I think about the way she touched my face, the way she sees past the broken parts to something worth saving.
Maybe that’s enough.
Maybe that’s more than enough.
By morning, I’ll have my answer. But right now, in the dark, with Serena DiLorenzo sleeping in my apartment, I already know what that answer is going to be.
Because when someone asks you to help them escape a monster, when someone trusts you enough to be vulnerable, when someone sees you as a person rather than a weapon, you say yes.
You say yes, and you figure out the rest as you go.