POV Owen
“Get dressed, angel.”
That’s how it starts. No greeting, no good morning—just my voice and her stunned eyes blinking up from the couch, Luna asleep on her lap.
Noelle frowns. “It’s barely seven. Where are we going?”
“Out.”
She looks at me like I’ve lost it. Maybe I have. The past week hasn’t left much of me to salvage. Every second since Silas’s call has been a countdown in my head—how long before he strikes, before the DA moves, before I lose the only thing that still makes me human.
I toss her coat onto the couch. “City Hall.”
Her eyebrows knit. “What?”
“We’re getting married,” I say flatly. “Today.”
She laughs, like I’m joking. “That’s not funny.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
Her smile fades. “Owen, what’s going on?”
“Too many people want pieces of us. If we’re legal, they can’t use you or Luna as leverage. Not the DA, not your father, not Silas. Nobody.”
She studies me, eyes softening with worry. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m done letting everyone else pull the strings.” I reach for her hand. “I need one thing that’s mine. That’s us.”
She hesitates only a heartbeat before nodding. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
***
We drive in silence. Luna stays with Maria and Rhea, the only two I trust. Rain slicks the city in silver streaks, and every stoplight feels like it’s daring me to turn back. Noelle keeps glancing at me, her thumb brushing the back of my hand on the gearshift. “You know this isn’t going to make the danger go away.”
“I know,” I mutter. “But it’ll make you harder to take from me.”
She doesn’t argue after that.
When we pull up to City Hall, the place is nearly empty. The clerk’s eyes go wide when she recognizes Noelle, then flick to me, clearly wondering if she should call security. I slide the paperwork across the counter before she can.
“Marriage license,” I say.
Noelle squeezes my arm. “You could try smiling. It’s our wedding day.”
I almost laugh. “Didn’t bring that skill set.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling now, nervous and beautiful in her black coat, hair loose around her shoulders. She looks like sunlight that forgot it shouldn’t follow me. The clerk types our names in silence, prints the forms, and stamps them with a faint thunk.
“Congratulations,” she says stiffly, handing us pens. “Sign here… and here.”
My hand trembles slightly as I sign the first line—Owen Marcus Tate. I pause when she passes the pen to Noelle.
“Still time to run,” I murmur.
She looks up, eyes locking with mine. “Not from you.”
Her signature curls like silk beside mine—Noelle Morris Tate. The sight of it hits me like a punch, sharp and unreal.
The clerk clears her throat. “Almost done. Two more lines, then we file the certificate.”
We sign the second page. The moment my pen lifts, the door bursts open behind us.
“Don’t move!”
The shout ricochets off the marble walls. Noelle jerks, pen clattering from her hand.
Five officers storm in, guns drawn, badges flashing. Behind them stands Cassandra Vale, immaculate as ever—navy suit, red lipstick, the calm face of someone who came to collect a debt.
Owen Tate, your favorite nightmare just walked in.
“Mr. Tate,” Vale says smoothly, “you’re under arrest for obstruction of justice and suspicion of homicide in the Gregory West case.”
I don’t reach for my gun. I just lift my hands. “You couldn’t wait until I finished signing?”
“This isn’t a joke,” she snaps. “You ignored a summons, violated travel restrictions, and obstructed a federal inquiry. You left me no choice.”
Noelle steps between us before the officers can move. “You have no right to drag him out of here like this. He’s innocent—”
“Mrs. Tate,” Vale cuts in. “Or should I say Miss Morris? The marriage isn’t valid until the registrar signs off, which won’t be happening today.”
Noelle’s breath catches. “You can’t—”
“Please step aside.”
She doesn’t. Her hands are trembling, but she stands her ground. “You’re doing this because you know he’s winning. Because he won’t bend for you.”
Vale’s expression doesn’t change. “I’m doing my job.”
“Your job is ruining lives to fill headlines!” Noelle’s voice cracks. “You want a monster? Look in the mirror!”
“Enough!” one of the officers barks, grabbing her arm.
I’m across the room before I realize I’ve moved. “Touch her again and you’ll lose the hand,” I growl.
The officer freezes. Vale signals him back with a sharp gesture. “Cuff him.”
Two men approach—I don’t resist. The cold steel closes around my wrists with a finality that feels almost familiar. Noelle’s screaming now, pulling against Vale’s assistant. “You can’t take him! We just—he didn’t even—Owen!”
“Angel,” I say quietly.
Her eyes snap to mine. She’s crying, shaking her head like if she denies it hard enough, time will reverse.
“I’ll fix it,” I tell her.
“You can’t fix this!” she sobs. “They’ll destroy you!”
I take one step closer, the chains clinking between my wrists. “Hey. Look at me.”
She does, breath coming in sharp bursts.
I lower my voice. “You’re going to go home. Lock the doors. Keep Luna close. Rhea will stay with you until I call.”
“I’m not letting you go alone.”
“You have to.”
“Why?”
“Because if I look back and see you following me, I’ll break every law to stop you.”
She swallows a sob, her lips trembling. “You idiot,” she whispers. “You think I care about laws?”
I manage a faint smile. “That’s my girl.”
Vale clears her throat impatiently. “We’re done here.”
Noelle lunges forward as they grab my arm. “Owen!”
The hallway outside City Hall feels endless. My boots echo against tile, cuffs biting into my wrists, officers flanking me like shadows. Reporters are already there—microphones flashing, questions flying like shrapnel.
“Is it true you killed Gregory West?”
“Are you protecting the Morris family?”
“Is the heiress part of your cover?”
I don’t answer. The only thing I see is Noelle through the glass doors, fighting against Rhea’s grip as she tries to follow.
Our eyes meet for a split second before the elevator doors slide shut between us. She’s still shouting my name when the metal seals. The sound fades into silence, swallowed by the hum of descending floors and the click of handcuffs against steel.
I close my eyes. Her voice lingers anyway, echoing in every breath. Soon, angel.