Page 66 of Made for Reign

“The kind that gets you out of that engagement. Permanently.”

His tone doesn’t waver, not even on the word that should scare both of us most. “I know you don’t want to hurt your family, and I’d never let you go through this alone. But I can’t let you marry him. You know I can’t.” His hands are steady on my hips, pulling me closer, anchoring me when the ground beneath us feels suddenly unstable.

“I can’t tell you all the details right now, but I need you to trust me. When I tell you it’s time to go, I want you to come with me. No questions, no hesitation. Can you do that?”

I stare back at him, blinking hard, the cabin’s golden morning light dissolving into a haze around his face.

Permanently. That word ricochets through my head, catching on everything brittle and breakable inside me. I almost laugh, except I know he’s deadly serious. He’s making a promise, one so absolute it scares me more than Gio ever has.

I try to process it. And process him. For all the wild, reckless things Reign has done to me this weekend, for how completelyhe’s broken down every barrier I had, this is the first time he’s truly terrified me. Not because I don’t believe him, but because I do. He means it. I see it in the way his jaw flexes, in the stubborn set of his mouth, in the steady, unshakable blue of his eyes. He’s already decided. My opinion is the only thing left.

I stare up at him, seeing the absolute conviction in his blue eyes. Part of me wants to say yes immediately, to throw caution to the wind and follow him anywhere. But the practical part of my brain, the part shaped by years of Worthington expectations, holds me back.

“My family,” I start, thinking of my Lucille’s face when she realizes I’m gone. Of the scandal it would cause. Of my father’s memory and everything he built. “The business, the merger?—”

“Will all work out exactly as it should,” he cuts me off gently. “But not the way Lucille planned. Trust me, baby. Have I ever lied to you?”

I search his face, remembering how he’s kept every promise he’s made so far. How he found me when I thought I’d never see him again. How he built me this studio based on nothing but faith that I’d return to him.

“No,” I admit. “You haven’t.”

“Then promise me you’ll think about it. Really think about it. Not about what everyone else expects, but about what you want. What makes you happy.” I take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the possibility he’s offering. A life where I could paint every morning. Where I could wake up in his arms every day instead of counting stolen moments.

“I’ll think about it,” I promise.

A slow grin spreads across his face, transforming his features from intense to devastating. “That’s progress. You didn’t say no.”

Before I can respond, he’s kissing me, deep and claiming and desperate. I melt into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I try tomemorize the taste of him, the feel of his mouth moving against mine.

“Come on,” he says roughly, resting his forehead against mine. “Before I decide to keep you here anyway.”

The drive back to Fit Mountain Resort passes too quickly, both of us lost in our own thoughts. He holds my hand the entire way, his thumb tracing patterns on my skin like he’s trying to memorize the feel of me, too. When we pull into the parking lot where my car waits, the sight of it feels like a physical blow.

“Whatever you decide,” he says quietly, “know that this weekend meant everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

The words are beautiful and devastating at the same time. Before I can respond, he’s out of the truck and coming around to my side. He helps me out, then backs me against my car, his body caging mine.

“One more,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on mine.

This kiss is different from all the others. It’s desperate and claiming, like he’s trying to pour every emotion he can’t say into the contact. I kiss him back just as fiercely, my hands fisting in his shirt as I try to memorize the taste of him, the feel of his lips against mine.

He steps back, giving me space to get in my car. I slide behind the wheel with shaking hands, starting the engine on autopilot. Through the windshield, I watch him climb back into his truck. He waits until I pull out of the parking space before following me to the main road, where he turns left toward the mountains while I turn right toward Cooper Heights.

As I drive away, I catch sight of him in my rearview mirror, standing beside his truck with his hands in his pockets, watching me leave. The image burns itself into my memory. He’s my mountain man, patient and powerful, and he is completely certain that I’ll come back to him.

As the miles pass, my mind churns with everything he said. He has a plan. He wants me to trust him. He wants me to be ready to run when he gives the word. The smart thing would be to dismiss it as fantasy. To accept that that marriage to Gio is inevitable.

But I can still taste Reign on my lips. Can still feel the weight of his hands on my skin. Can still see the fierce determination in his eyes when he promised to handle everything.

What if he can actually do it? What if escape is possible?

The drive back to the estate feels like a return to prison. Every mile away from Reign’s cabin and closer to the imposing stone gates of Worthington Manor makes my chest tighten with dread. By the time I pull into the circular driveway at 10:15, I’m already strategizing how to get to my room without encountering Lucille.

I ease the front door open as quietly as possible, slipping off my heels to pad silently across the marble foyer. The house feels tomb-quiet, which gives me hope that Lucille is still in her morning routine. If I can just make it up the grand staircase and down the hall to my wing?—

“Audrey, darling, there you are.”

I freeze on the third step, Lucille’s voice floating from the direction of the morning room. There’s no escaping now.

---