Chapter 40
Archer
The sound of the gunshot echoes through the garden.
For a second, everything freezes. The air itself seems to stop moving. Then I see it—blood blooming across white silk, soaking into the lace at Lottie’s side.
“Lottie!” Roman’s voice breaks like something shattering inside him.
He’s already running before I can move, crashing through fallen chairs and debris to reach her.
He catches her as she stumbles, hands frantically searching for the wound.
“No, no, no, baby. This can’t happen—” he chokes.
“I’m not losing you before I get to say I love you. Not yet.”
Lottie blinks up at him, wide-eyed, dazed, then looks to all of us surrounding her, tears in our eyes.
Then, to everyone’s complete confusion, she lets out a tiny laugh—a small, breathless sound that shouldn’t exist in the middle of all of this chaos.
“Roman,” she whispers. “It’s not mine. I’m okay. ”
Roman freezes, his hands hovering over the bloodstain.
He looks down, then around all of us, and that’s when we see Tracey standing there, swaying, her eyes wide with shock, a perfect red bloom spreading over her chest. The gun slips from her hand, and for a moment, she looks almost human—lost, broken—and then she crumples to the grass beside Lottie, unmoving.
Mom lowers her weapon slowly, her chest heaving. She doesn’t even glance at Tracey’s body. Instead, she rushes to Lottie, dragging her up into her arms, hands cupping her face. “You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.”
Lottie nods, tears in her eyes. “I’m okay.”
Across the garden, Lorenzo’s still fighting against Crew, spitting curses through gritted teeth. Crew’s got a knee pressed into his chest, his gun steady against Lorenzo’s forehead. “Stay down,” Crew snarls.
Lorenzo—bleeding, half-delirious—starts laughing. “Look at you. All of you,” he wheezes. “You think you’ve won? That you’re the fucked up heroes in her story? You’re nothing. She’ll always be mine… every scar, every scream. I made her. She’s my Little Bird—”
Roman stiffens, his expression twisting into something feral.
He takes slow, deliberate steps forward until he’s standing over Lorenzo.
Crew doesn’t move, just shifts back enough to let Roman in.
Lorenzo tilts his head, blood running down his chin.
“You don’t have the balls to do it, boy. You’re a coward—”
The rest of the sentence never leaves his mouth. Roman pulls the trigger with no hesitation. The shot’s clean. Quick. Lorenzo’s body jerks once, then goes still, a dark stain spreading across the altar.
Tracey and Lorenzo are forgotten, all of us surrounding Lottie, making sure she’s okay. Mom sets Lottie’s shoulder back into place, and then I move. I pull her into my arms. “You scared the shit out of me,” I growl, crashing my lips down to hers.
We pull back, chests heaving. “So did you,” Lottie swipes away a tear. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine. A few cuts and bruises. Nothing that would have stopped me from coming for you. Never again, Lottie. No one will ever take you from me again, I swear it.”
Oscar butts in, shaking his head as he surveys the carnage surrounding us. “Well,” he signs, “We have a priest, a wedding dress, and five very emotionally unstable men. Is this the start of a bad joke, or shall we make this thing official?”
I actually laugh, a rough, exhausted sound, and even Lottie manages a small smile through her tears. “How poetic.”
Crew snorts, tucking his gun away. “He’s not wrong, though. You’re in a dress, albeit a bloody one, and we may as well make use of all these flowers.”
Roman looks at her, taking her hand in his. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I am now.”
“And will you?”
“What?”
Roman lowers himself to the ground to one knee, taking her hand in his. “Will you marry us? I know it can’t be official, but I can’t—” his voice cracks. “I thought I lost you when I saw the blood, and all I could think about was telling you how much I love you.”
Lottie’s eyes water, and we all move as one unit, surrounding Roman. I’ve been ready to make her mine since I pulled her from the water.
“I love you, Reyes. And if you aren’t ready to forgive me yet, then I get it, but I love you with everything I am. Everything I ever will be. You own my soul, and there will never be another woman in this life for me. You’re it. So marry us, right here, right now, standing in my father’s blood.”
She doesn’t respond straight away, just looks to the rest of us. “And the rest of you? Is this what you want?”
Elijah coughs. “I mean… I’m already your husband, but I’d like to experience the real thing rather than the photos I had made.”
“You’re my home, Lottie. I couldn’t want anything else more.” Crew wipes a tear away.
Oscar smiles, and she softens. “You’re my Siren. Whatever you want, baby, it’s yours. But yes, I want to be your husband.”
The only one left to answer is me, and I cup her face to look at me, really look at me. “As if there could ever be anything else I would ever want. I choose you on purpose every time, Lottie, and I will forever until the end of time.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you all.”
Pacheco appears, a smile on his face. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. I won’t be staying, but I’ll clear away the bodies for you all, and let the families know that Lorenzo is finally dealt with,” he turns to Roman, who stands and shakes Pacheco’s hand.
“Can I let them know that you’ll be taking over the contracts for your father? ”
“I don’t discuss business on my wedding day, but I’ll be in touch in a few weeks and we can sort it all out then. For now, let them know I’ll stick to the original arrangements for now and won’t let them down.”
Pacheco nods his head, happy with the answer. “Perfect. I expect to hear from you soon, then, and again congratulations…” he pauses. “Oh, and Lottie?”
“Yes?”
“Tell Angel I said hello.”
Dad and Mom bring Peter in from the van after Pacheco keeps his promise and clears the venue of the dead guards, Tracey, and Lorenzo, too.
The moment he sees her, he breaks. He rushes forward, pulling her into his arms so tight I swear she stops breathing for a second.
His voice cracks against her hair. “I’m so sorry, Lottie.
So sorry. I should’ve been there. I should’ve—”
She hugs him back, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re here now, Dad. That’s enough.”
He pulls back, looking at her—really looking at her—and then at all of us standing there, surrounding her, battered and bloody but alive. He shakes his head, smiling through his tears. “You’re a lucky girl, Lottie. You’ve got an army.”
Roman clears his throat. “So, uh… do you mind doing us a favor, Peter?”
Peter blinks at him. “A favor?”
Oscar grins, gesturing toward the arch that’s half collapsed but still standing. “She’s already in the dress, the priest’s here, and Elijah’s dying to make it official instead of forced.”
Elijah groans, and Crew claps him on the back. “Sit this one out, husband. Let the rest of us have this.”
Elijah’s glare could kill him. “Try and stop me, and I’ll make Lorenzo’s death look merciful compared to what I’ll do to you.”
Peter laughs, wiping his eyes. “Then I guess we’re having a wedding. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s try to do this right.”
He offers her his arm, and she takes it, hesitant but smiling.
They walk toward the top of the aisle, and Mom barks orders for us to get into position.
The terrified priest talks with her for a moment, then returns to the aisle, a fake smile plastered on his face.
I have no clue what she said to him, but I briefly heard the words “hostage” and “or else,” so I’m assuming Mom’s done what she does best and brought him to heel.
Dad and Mom move to stand to the left, but Lottie calls out from the top of the aisle. “Will,” she calls softly.
“Yes, sweetheart?” he moves then, going straight to her. “Are you having cold feet? Because just say the word and I’ll whisk you out of here, if that’s what you want.”
Lottie laughs then, a real laugh. “No, my feet are very warm, but I can’t do this without you.” She holds out her other arm for him to take. “I need both my dads to give me away.”
Mom slaps her hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes. Dad coughs, clearing his throat, his throat bobbing. “Are you sure?” When Lottie nods, he looks to Peter. “Are you ok with this?”
Peter looks to Lottie, then back to Dad. “If it’s what she wants, then that’s all I care about.”
They walk slowly down what’s left of the aisle, petals and glass crunching beneath their feet. When she reaches us—me, Roman, Crew, Oscar, and Elijah—she looks at each of us in turn, eyes shining, finally whole.
The sunlight filters through the wreckage of the garden—broken chairs, shattered crystal, trampled roses—and somehow, it still feels like the most beautiful place in the world.
Lottie stands between Dad and Peter, her white dress tattered and covered in blood, but she’s radiant.
There’s something untouchable in her eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and I realize she finally looks whole.
When she reaches the end of the aisle, both men stop, one on each side of her, and the entire world seems to hold its breath.
Dad leans down, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You have always been stronger than you think, sweetheart. Don’t you ever forget that when you need to put these men in their place, and if you can’t let me know, I’ll sort them out for you.” He presses a kiss to her forehead.
Peter clears his throat, his voice breaking. “Go on, baby. Go be happy.”
They each take one of her hands and place on in Elijah’s and the other in mine. Elijah’s jaw tightens as he looks at her, like he’s barely holding himself together. His eyes move over her face, down to her trembling hand in his. “You ready for this?” he murmurs.
She nods.
Crew clears his throat beside me. “Alright, before you two start eye-fucking each other in front of the priest, maybe we can get this show on the road?”
Lottie lets out a small laugh, and even Elijah cracks a smile, shaking his head. “You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah,” Crew grins, “but I’m your asshole. Now hurry up before Roman starts crying again.”
Roman glares at him. “I wasn’t crying. There was smoke.”
Oscar smirks. “Right… Smoke… From your eyes.”
“Shut up,” Roman signs back, but he glares playfully at him.
The priest, visibly terrified and probably reconsidering all his life choices, clears his throat. “Ahem. Right. W-we are gathered here today, in the presence of… God, I suppose—”
Mom coughs pointedly, hand resting on the gun at her hip. He swallows hard. “In the presence of family,” he corrects quickly. “To join these… six people—”
“Five,” Elijah cuts in. “She’s already married to me.”
Oscar grins. “Not if we vote you out of the marriage. I hear divorce is still an option.”
Elijah’s glare could curdle blood. “Try it,” he mouths.
The priest looks like he’s seconds from fainting. “Right. To… renew their vows, and to celebrate the union of—”
Lottie’s laughter bubbles up, bright and unrestrained. “You don’t have to make it sound so weird,” she teases softly.
He stammers. “I-I think that ship has sailed, my dear.”
She turns to us then—first Elijah, then me, then Crew, Oscar, and Roman. Her gaze lingers on each of us in turn, and in that moment, the chaos, the blood, the pain—it all fades away.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve any of you,” she says, voice trembling but sure. “But I know that I’m here because of you, because you fought for me. Because you never gave up.”
Elijah retakes her hands. “We’d burn the world for you,” he says simply.
She smiles through her tears. “You already did.”
The priest’s voice wavers. “Do you, Lottie, take these men—”
“Don’t say men,” Oscar interrupts, and I relay what he’s signing. “Makes it sound like she’s starting a cult.”
Lottie giggles, wiping her eyes. “It’s fine. I do.”
“Do you all,” the priest sighs, clearly done with us, “take this woman to be… whatever it is you people are—”
“I do,” Elijah says first.
“I do,” I echo quietly, because there’s never been any other answer.
Crew smirks. “Hell yeah, I do.”
Roman nods, eyes still red. “Always.”
Oscar winks at her. “Till death do us part, or until Elijah kills me.”
Elijah groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. He says, “You’re unbelievable.”
The priest gives up completely. “Then, by whatever authority I have left, I now pronounce you all… something.”
Cheers erupt from everyone. Mom and Dad are clapping so loudly I can barely hear anything else, Peter laughing through his tears as he stares at Lottie like he remembers her playing dress-up as a kid.
Lottie turns, looking at all of us through tears, and when Elijah pulls her into his arms and kisses her—really kisses her this time, not out of panic, protection, or fear—everything feels right.
We all move then, pulling her into our arms and kissing her like it might be the last time. Once we’re done, she pulls back, her lips puffy and red, but her eyes are happy—truly happy—and I can’t help myself as I pull her closer again. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Crew leans over to me and mutters, “You think it’s too soon to ask where we’re spending the honeymoon?”
Roman groans. “Shut up before I shoot you.”
And Lottie… Lottie just laughs.
It’s the kind of sound that chases the ghosts away.
The kind that makes everything that came before worth surviving, and all of the guilt I felt for saving her and not Luke dissipates.
Not entirely because I think I’ll always hold on to a little piece of it for not being able to save him in time.
But just enough to know I was where I was meant to be that night.