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“My safety?” I cut him off, standing so abruptly my chair screeched against the floor. “I’ve been running and hiding since I can remember. Arlet Rune isn’t just a name; it’s who I’ve become.”
Hayze stood beside me now, his presence a solid reassurance.
“Arlet—” Matthews tried again.
“It matches Charlotte,” I pressed on, voice unwavering as my resolve crystallized into words. “Charlotte Bruno was someone else—a life chosen for me by birthright and bloodshed. Arlet Rune is who I was—the name I made for myself when they stripped everything else away.”
Matthews studied me, his expression unreadable as he tapped a pen against his lips.
“Arlet is who Hayze knows,” I continued, feeling Hayze’s hand find mine—an anchor in this sea of uncertainty. “It’s who my colleagues know; it’s who fought against West Corp and stood up in front of an entire community.”
Matthews sighed, leaning back in his chair with a creak of leather. His eyes flitted between Hayze and me before settling on some point over my shoulder.
I could see him weighing options—the bureaucrat in him against whatever shred of understanding he might possess for what it meant to carve out an identity from the ashes of another life.
The room was thick with tension as we waited for his verdict—my future balanced precariously on the edge of his next words.
The agent’s gaze held steady, an unwavering force. “Arlet, at the very least, you must change your last name. It’s a compromise you have to consider.”
The breath catch in my throat, a familiar sense of being cornered creeping up my spine. The life I’d painstakingly built was slipping through my fingers once again. I clenched my jaw, preparing to argue, but before I could form the words, Hayze’s voice cut through the tension.
“What if she didn’t have to?”
All eyes turned to him. His bronze skin seemed to catch the sterile light of the office, giving him an otherworldly glow.
Matthews leaned forward with a skeptic’s frown. “What do you suggest?”
Hayze’s hand tightened around mine, and he spoke with a conviction that sent shivers down my arms. “We marry,” he said simply. “She takes my name—Bronze.”
Silence followed his bold declaration, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause on its axis. The suggestion was wild and crazy—ludicrous even—but as I turned to look at Hayze, his earnest gaze met mine, and something inside me clicked into place.
I’d spent my life dodging shadows and assuming false identities, never allowing myself the luxury of dreaming about normalcy or permanence. But here was Hayze—a Talos monster, an alien with a skin of bronze—offering me a future that was more human than anything I’d ever known.
Matthews cleared his throat. “That’s... unconventional,” he said, but I could hear the consideration in his voice.
Unconventional. The word hung in the air between us like a challenge—a chance to break away from the life of running and hiding that had defined me for so long.
I turned back to Hayze, searching his face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. But all I found was an unwavering certainty—a silent promise that whatever came our way, we would face it together.
My heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement as I realized this was it—the leap into the unknown that would bind me to Hayze in ways I hadn’t dared imagine.
“I...” My voice faltered for a moment before strength surged through me. “I’ve never loved another like I love Hayze.”
Matthews watched us, perhaps seeing the truth of our bond reflected in our intertwined hands or hearing it in the timbre of our voices.
Finally, he nodded slowly. “Very well,” he conceded. “If that’s your decision.”
We decided—a course of action so absurd, yet so fitting for the strange tapestry of my life. We stood together in front of Matthews.
Hayze leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Are you ready?”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice as emotions swirled within me—a cocktail of relief and anticipation at what we were about to do.
We left Matthews’ office with a purpose that lent strength to our steps. The rain had stopped outside; puddles reflected the cityscape as we made our way toward the courthouse—a symbol of order and bureaucracy that would soon bear witness to our union.
The courthouse loomed ahead—its steps an ascent into a new chapter of my life. As we approached its doors hand in hand, I allowed myself a small smile at the absurdity and beauty of it all—Arlet Rune about to become Arlet Russel.
Stepping into the Seattle Courthouse, I clutched Hayze’s hand, feeling the weight of my old life lift with each step. The judge’s chambers awaited us, a promise of new beginnings etched into the marble and wood.
