Page 71 of Keeper

Looking past Alex to Draven just over his shoulder, I study his face. The finely trimmed beard covering his chin, those electric, piercing blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The curls that so elegantly fall across his forehead. Will our child have those, or my naturally straight hair? I hope they get his curls. And I hope they know from the very moment their eyes open who their father is, and how farhewill go to protect them.

“And now, for the declaration of intent. It is with great honor that I ask do you, Alexander James Creed, take Sullivan to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” he says firmly, lying with the ease that growing up a Creed has given him. Something about it cements my decision. I smile as politely as I can, turning my attention to the puffed-up priest and wait.

“And do you, Sullivan Grace Harbough, take Alexander to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

My eyes meet Draven’s once more in a silent attempt to tell him it’s okay. To ask him wholeheartedly not to hate me for this, but to understand that this is what’s best. For me, for him, for the child that we were forced to bring into this world but love just the same. This is the only way.

“No.”

Quiet murmurs spark from the crowd as the priest clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Miss Harbough. I think I must’ve misunderstood you. You—”

“You didn’t misunderstand. I saidno.”Stepping back, I drop the pretense as Draven laughs quietly. “I do not consent to any of that, or any of this. I—”

“Youwillmarry him!” Ephraim shrieks, standing from his position in the front row. “You’re confused, that’s all. Recite the declaration of intent again.”

The priest fumbles on his words as I round on my child’s grandfather, letting generations of rage flow out of me. “I understand that you’re a man and the concept of the word ‘no’ is foreign to you, so let me explain it. You don’t own me. You don’t get to tell me who to marry or whose child to carry because women were not put on this earth to serve you and your whims. You’re so obsessed with bloodlines and status, and yet you can’t see that your own is a rotten, festering black hole. You hurt people. Ephraim. You bully them and threaten them when you don’t get your way and somehow you think that makes you powerful, but you’re making the same mistake that kings and dictators and men in general have been making for centuries — fear does not breed loyalty. And what is power without loyalty? It’s a fever dream, and one you only have a tenuous grasp on. So I’m leaving.”

The fury on his face turns cold and calculating, giving me a split-second heads up of what’s to come. “Draven, it’s time. Kill her. Let every man woman and child in attendance see what happens when I’m disobeyed.”

“Hm?” He looks up, seemingly unbothered by the question as my heart climbs into my throat. “Why would I kill her? She’s the mother of my child.”

Relief flows through me. He’s on my side. I never doubted him, not really, but in these violent moments it still brings me peace.

“That’s not your child, I saw the DNA results myself. That child is Alexander’s and she will not keep him from me.”

“You saw what we wanted you to see,” I snap. “In your haste to keep your precious reputation intact, you slipped. You were so convinced that everyone around you would obey you without question, without concern for their own happiness or wellbeing, that you allowed yourself to be fooled. Alex never touched me, not once. His loyalty lies with the woman he truly loves, the one you deemed not worthy because she’s just a gardener. She’s got more integrity in her little finger than you have in your entire body. It’s Draven’s child I’m carrying. The bastard son you refused to protect, refused to love. He’s six times the man you are. They both are. And while you might think that having two sons who grew up to be good men might protect your legacy, you’re wrong. It had nothing to do with you, or with Verna. Miss Maddie raised these boys. She put herself between you and them and taught them to be decent, to be kind and loyal and true. To be real men. So if you want to kill me, Ephraim, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

Several people stand at once — Daddy with a few of her girls, my former Keepers Josiah and Beau, my father, the Wardens, and even some I don’t recognize. Josiah and Beau scramble over the pews and take their place in front of me, arms crossed, while the Wardens stand off the side like dangerous, violent sentries. Draven and Alex stand tall on the altar step behind me, wrapping me in a cocoon of protection.

“See why we wanted to keep her?” Beau jokes, making me exhale sharply. “I’ve never seen anything like her.”

“And you never will again, because I’m the one who gets to keep her,” Dray says simply. “Your loss is my gain.”

Pride swells in my chest. “It’s over, Ephraim. You can either sit down and give your blessing as Alex marries the only woman he’s ever loved and I walk away with my life, or you can fight. But either way, your grip on all of us ends now. And let it be known it was a woman who broke it.” Lifting up the skirt on my dress, I squeeze between my Keepers and make it to the bottom of the steps before Draven sneaks in front of me.

The look in his eyes is so intense I feel it throughout my entire body. I’ve seen so many different expressions cross his handsome face these last few months — pain, frustration, happiness, pleasure — but this look is entirely new. It’s almost as though he feels weightless. “You never needed me to save you, little keeper. I needed you to save me.” His mouth crashes to mine heatedly for the briefest of seconds before he’s tossing me over his shoulder and holding out his gun. “If anyone stands in my way, I will not hesitate to shoot you in the face.”

There’s palpable danger in his threat, one that keeps Ephraim rooted to the spot as he carries me out. A part of me wishes I could stay as a fly on the wall to see the aftermath, but it’s time to leave this life and these people behind for as long as we can. Who knows how far we’ll make it before Ephraim comes after us in retribution? All I know is that when he does, we’ll be ready. For better or worse, in life and in death, we’ll be ready.

I’d rather live a few measly days as Draven’s queen than a lifetime as his father’s pawn, and that feels like freedom to me.

A pawn brought a king to his knees.

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