Relief flooded through me, so intense it made me dizzy. “Hope.”
“But I won’t marry you because Reaper ordered it.”
My relief vanished, replaced by cold dread.
“I won’t be coerced into marriage,” she continued, her voice steady despite the tears still streaming down her face. “Not by the club. Not by my brothers. Not even by you.”
“I’m not trying to coerce you.”
“Aren’t you?” She finally looked at me, and the pain in her eyes nearly broke me. “You’re telling me that if I don’t marry you, everyone will find out you lied. And if it comes out that you lied, you’ll face the Golden Line-Up. So what choice do I really have, Chapman? Marry you or watch you die?”
“That’s not—” I stopped, because she was right. She was absolutely fucking right.
“I spent my entire life watching my mother be controlled by men,” Hope said, her voice shaking. “By the club. By my father. By every brother who thought they had a right to tell her what to do and who to be. And I swore I would never be like her. I swore I would never let anyone, not the club, my family, or otherwise, take away my choice.”
“I’m not trying to take away your choice.”
“Then give me one.” She turned to face me fully, her eyes blazing. “Give me a real choice, Chapman. Not ‘marry me or I die.’ Not ‘marry me because Reaper said so.’ Give me a choice that’s actually mine.”
I stared at her, my mind racing. She was right. Of course, she was right. But I didn’t know how to give her what she wasasking for. I didn’t know how to separate the lie from the truth, the coercion from the genuine feeling. “I don’t know how,” I admitted quietly.
“Then figure it out.” She stood again, her movements sharp. “Because I won’t marry you like this. I won’t stand in front of the club and pretend this is my choice when it’s really Reaper’s order. I won’t do it.”
“Hope—”
“I love you,” she said, her voice breaking. “God help me, I love you so much it terrifies me. But I won’t marry you because I have to. I’ll only marry you if I want to. And right now, I don’t know what I want.”
Her words hit me like a physical blow. I felt them settle into my chest, heavy and cold.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
She blinked, surprised. “Okay?”
“Okay.” I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the pain screaming through my ribs. “You’re right. You deserve a real choice. And I’m sorry I didn’t give you one from the start.”
Hope’s expression crumpled, and she covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. I wanted to reach for her. Wanted to pull her into my arms and promise her everything would be okay. But I couldn’t. Not when I had just taken away her choice by presenting her with an impossible situation.
“I should go,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. The room tilted dangerously, and I gripped the edge of the bed to steady myself.
“Chapman, you can barely stand.”
“I’ll be fine.” I took a step toward the door, then another. Each movement was agony, but I kept moving. “I’m sorry, Hope. For all of it.”
“Wait.”
I stopped, my hand on the doorknob.
“Where will you go?” she asked, her voice small.
“Back to the couch.” I glanced over my shoulder at her. She was still sitting on the bed, her face streaked with tears, her hands trembling. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”
“Chapman—”
“Goodnight, Hope.”
I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, pulling it closed behind me before she could say anything else. The walk back to the stairs was worse than the climb up had been. My vision swam. My legs shook. By the time I reached the first step, I was gripping the railing with both hands, my breath coming in short, painful gasps. I made it halfway down before my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the stairs, my body folding in on itself as pain exploded through my ribs. I bit down on my fist to keep from crying out, tasting blood as my teeth broke the skin.
Fuck.I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t make it back to the couch. Couldn’t face the morning. Couldn’t figure out how to give Hope the choice she deserved when the clock was already ticking down.
