WREN
The name felt like a piece of cold metal in my mouth. A bullet I'd been biting on for years, finally spat out into the dirt between us.
"Julian Vance."
I didn't look at Hayes. I couldn't. I kept my eyes fixed on the creek, watching the way the water churned over the smooth, dark stones. It was relentless, indifferent, and cold—just like the man I'd just named.
Beside me, I felt Hayes go still. Not the stillness of someone listening, but the stillness of a lion that had just caught a scent it didn't recognize. A scent that was dangerous.
"The Governor's son," Hayes said, his voice flat. It wasn't a question. In this state, in this part of the country, there was only one Julian Vance. He was the golden heir to a political dynasty that made the Sterlings look like playground bullies.
"He's not just the Governor's son, Hayes," I whispered, my hands burying themselves deeper into my pockets. My fingers brushed the smooth screen of the burner phone—the leash Julian had handed me. "He's the reason I'm here. And he's the reason I might never leave."
I finally turned to look at him. Hayes was staring at me, his face a pale mask in the dying light. The anger from our fight was still there, simmering under the surface, but it was being rapidly overtaken by a cold, sharp clarity.
"Tell me," he said. Two words. A command.
"I met him three years ago," I began, my voice trembling. I forced myself to stand tall, to not shrink under the weight of the memory. "My father... he likes to collect things. People, mostly. And at one of those endless, soul-sucking galas in the city, he collected the Vances. Julian had just turned seventeen then. I was fifteen. He was everything a Governor's son was supposed to be. Charming. Brilliant. Perfectly tailored."
I let out a harsh, jagged laugh. "But Julian doesn't see people. He sees assets. He saw a girl who was the illegitimate secret of a billionaire, a girl who was desperate for a scrap of real attention, and he decided I was his favorite new toy."
Hayes's jaw tightened, the muscle jumping. He stepped closer, the heat radiating off him, but he didn't touch me. He was giving me the space to bleed.
"It wasn't a romance, Hayes. It was an acquisition," I continued, the words spilling out now, a floodgate finally breaking. "He taught me how to move in that world. He taught me which smiles were weapons and which ones were shields. And for a while, I thought I loved him. I thought he was the only one who saw the real me. But Julian's version of love is... possessive. It's total."
I swallowed hard, the memory of that last summer in the city clawing at my throat. "When I tried to pull away, he lost it. He didn't just want me; he wanted to take me. He tried to kidnap me, Hayes. He tried to run away with me, to hide me in some cabin in the woods where no one could find us. It was a scandal that almost destroyed his father's career. The Governor needed a strong political figure to secure his interest, not a teenage son who was playing some twisted version of Romeo and Juliet."
Hayes took a sharp, hissed breath. "He tried to take you?"
"The NDA," I said, my voice dropping. "My father didn't just want to protect himself. He wanted to protect his political allies. Julian's father was the one who actually consented to the deal. I get sent away, my mother gets her bills paid, and Julian gets to stay the perfect son, his 'unstable' phase buried under a mountain of legal paperwork."
The silence that followed was suffocating. The only sound was the rush of the water and the distant, lonely call of a bird in the woods.
"The stadium," Hayes said suddenly. The realization hit him like a physical blow. "The code violations. The fire marshal. That wasn't a miracle."
"It was Julian," I admitted, the guilt finally crushing me. "I was desperate. You were going to destroy your shoulder, your future... and I couldn't stop you. So I called the only person I knew who could stop a clock with a single phone call. I asked for a favor."
"And the Sterlings?" Hayes's voice was dangerously low now.
"The injunction. The mural. I didn't even have to ask for that one," I whispered. "I just told him the 'dragon' was in my way. He 'slaughtered' them because it was easier than listening to me say no."
Hayes took a step back, his eyes searching mine. I saw the hurt there—the deep, jagged wound of realizing that the 'miracle' he'd credited to our love was actually the work of a man who used to own my heart. Or at least, my time.
"You called him," Hayes said, his voice cracking. "After everything I did... after everything we were building... you went back to him."
"I didn't go back to him!" I shouted, reaching out for his arm, but he flinched away. The rejection burned worse than anything Julian had ever done. "I did it for you! To save you!"
"I didn't ask to be saved by your ex-boyfriend, Wren!" Hayes roared, the frustration finally exploding. He turned away, pacing the small loading dock like a caged animal. "You think this makes it better? You think knowing that some political sociopath is 'protecting' us makes me feel safe?"
"It doesn't! It shouldn't!" I was crying now, the tears hot and blurring my vision. "I'm terrified, Hayes! He didn't do those things for free. He fast-tracked my Columbia offer. He's clearing the path for me to be back in his orbit, in New York. Every time he 'helps,' the debt gets bigger. He's buying me back, piece by piece."
Hayes stopped. He turned back to me, his face haunted. The Golden Boy was completely gone, replaced by a young man who was realizing the scale of the war he'd walked into.
"He knows about me," Hayes said. It wasn't a question.
"He knows someone is here," I said, my voice trembling. "He hasn't named you yet. But Julian likes to watch. He likes to know exactly what he's destroying before he pulls the trigger."
Hayes walked back to me. He didn't stay outside my space this time. He stepped in close, so close I could feel the ragged heat of his breath against my forehead. He grabbed my shoulders—not with the anger from before, but with a sudden, grounding strength that made the world stop spinning.
"Look at me, Wren," he commanded. His voice wasn't a roar anymore. It was low, vibrating with a kind of raw, quiet intensity that made my heart stutter.
I looked up. His eyes were dark, a storm of gold and gray that seemed to swallow the entire forest.
"Let him watch," Hayes whispered. He reached up, his thumb catching a tear on my cheek and dragging it slow across my skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "Let him watch while I take everything he thinks he owns. He thinks he can buy you with favors and phone calls? He think he can buy a future with a fast-tracked offer? He's wrong. He's so fucking wrong."
He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. I could feel his heart beating against my chest—a heavy, relentless rhythm that felt like a shield.
"I don't have his money," Hayes murmured, his voice cracking with a vulnerability that broke me. "I don't have his father's power. I'm just a boy from a town he probably couldn't find on a map. But I'm the one who knows the exact shade of blue your eyes turn when you're thinking about the ocean. I'm the one who knows you paint your secrets because you're too afraid to say them out loud. And I'm the one who is going to be standing between you and him until there's nothing left of me."
A sob broke from my throat, but it wasn't fear this time. It was a violent, overwhelming surge of relief. I grabbed his shirt, my fingers bunching the fabric until my knuckles turned white, anchoring myself to him.
"Hayes, he'll destroy you," I breathed.
"Then let him," he said, his lips brushing against mine, the words a promise, a vow, a declaration of war. "Let him burn the whole world down if he wants. I'll just build you a new one in the ashes. Because you aren't his acquisition, Wren. You aren't his toy. You're my everything. And I don't give up what's mine."
He kissed me then—not with desperation, but with a fierce, possessive certainty that felt like a brand. It was the kind of kiss that didn't just ask for a future; it demanded one. It was the sound of every door in Julian's gilded cage slamming shut.
I clung to him, my heart finally finding its rhythm in his, the terror of Julian Vance receding like a tide. For the first time in three years, the weight of the debt didn't feel like a death sentence. It felt like a challenge.
As we stood there in the shadows of the old mill, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I didn't flinch. I didn't even look away from the boy holding me.
I knew it was Julian. I knew the grace period was over.
But for the first time, I wasn't the one who was afraid.
The dragon was dead. And if the slayer wanted his payment, he was going to have to go through the boy who's willing to set the world on fire for me.