Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
As soon as the car stopped in front of Xyst, the door swung open.
A wall of people and voices flooded the sidewalk. A broad-shouldered man stood at the door, flanked by several others in dark suits. Beyond them, a small crowd pressed against the barrier line, phones raised.
Holy crap.
I wasn’t ready for this.
I scooted back into the seat, pulse climbing fast, fingers curling against the leather.
Then Lucian stepped into view and rested his forearm along the doorframe, leaning down until his face filled my vision. The noise dulled, and the pressure in my chest eased.
He smiled and held out his open palm.
“Come, my love,” he said. “Let me introduce you to my friends.”
I placed my hand in his.
He helped me out of the car with ease, then turned to the man who had opened the door.
“Scarlett, this is Slade. He manages security here at Xyst, and I trust him with my life.”
The introduction was deliberate. Lucian wasn’t simply naming names. He was marking who was safe, showing me who stood inside his circle.
I extended my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Slade.”
His grip was firm but respectful. “If you ever need anything at all, you message me. I’ll be right there.”
There was no bravado in his voice, just matter-of-fact.
“Thank you. I’ll remember that.”
The attention pressed in from all sides. Protection was layered over those curious about who had arrived in a limo. It was overwhelming, but not suffocating. Lucian’s hand found the small of my back, steady and possessive without squeezing. He guided me through the doors and into the entrance hall.
I expected noise.
Music. Bodies. Chaos.
Instead, there was silence.
The lobby stood still, lit in warm tones. No guests. No movement beyond the staff.
A woman with a bright smile approached. “May I take your coat?”
Lucian slid it from my shoulders before handing it over. He kissed my cheek, brief but intentional.
“Ashe, will you help Scarlett with her coat and show her in?”
“Of course. It won’t take but a minute. I’ll bring her to your table.”
I looked at him, confusion flickering across my face. Was this normal?
He winked and walked away without explanation.
I turned back to Ashe. She led me into a cloakroom tucked behind a discreet door. The space was immaculate; the racks were aligned, and Ashe moved quietly. Within a minute, she was done doing whatever was required for my coat.
“This way, Miss Hayes,” she said, gesturing down a corridor. “Lucian has quite a night planned for the two of you.”
We moved along a wall paneled in dark wood, then through an open doorway into the main hall.
It was cavernous and completely dark except around the edges.
The left wall held a bar that stretched the length of the space. Glass shelves rose high against mirrored panels, bottles arranged in rows and lit from above and below. The light caught the crystal and sent reflections across the bar.
Balconies circled the room above, their lines defined by low, concealed lighting. The scale of it became clear only when I lifted my gaze.
It was enormous.
And empty.
I turned to ask Ashe what was happening.
Before I could speak, a single spotlight snapped on overhead.
It cut through the darkness and landed in the center of the room.
“Oh.”
My hand flew to my chest.
Lucian was down on one knee in the center of that light.
A small black box rested in his raised hand.
For a second, my body forgot how to move.
The world narrowed to only him, to the way he looked up at me like I was the only oxygen in the room.
I didn’t remember crossing the floor.
But somehow, I was standing in front of him.
The small black box opened in his hand.
“Scarlett.”
When he spoke my name, his Irish lilt wrapped around it, softer than I had ever heard it.
“I will never kneel for another soul on this earth.” His jaw tightened. “But I kneel for you.”
My breath hitched.
He reached for my hand, and I placed it between his fingers.
“I have killed for you. I would burn cities for you. I would stand between you and every monster that ever thought they had the right to touch you.”
My hand trembled in his. His thumb brushed my knuckles, grounding me.
“I want to wake up beside you every morning for the rest of my life. I want to build a home with you. Fill it with laughter. With noise. With children who have your fire.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth.
“I will provide for you. Protect you. Stand beside you as we walk through this life together. You will never question where you belong again.”
His voice roughened.
“If heaven waits for us, I’ll meet you there.”
“And if it’s hell—then stay with me in it, and I’ll build you a kingdom there.”
He lifted the ring.
“I give you my name. My loyalty. My strength. My future. I promise you a life where you are cherished. Safe. Wanted every single day.”
“Come grow old with me.”
“Be my wife.”
There was no hesitation in me.
“Yes,” I whispered, nodding.
He slid the ring onto my finger. The diamond caught the light, and the ring settled into place as if it had always belonged there.
I flung myself into his arms.
His hands closed around me, lifting me off the floor for a second before setting me back down, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that tasted like whiskey and triumph.
The sound of applause cut through it.
Hands clapping, whistles, and laughter surrounded us.
The lighting shifted, rising from darkness into a warm glow. My eyes adjusted slowly, and I realized we weren’t alone.
But it wasn’t a crowd.
People were scattered across the balconies. At the edge of the bar. Near the staircase. A few standing on the large stage I hadn’t even noticed when I walked in.
He had not just proposed.
He had declared me as his in front of his people.
Lucian stood, pulling me up with him.
“Congratulations, bestie!”
Sofia’s voice cut through everything as she ran toward us, laughing and clapping. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed hard enough to make me gasp.
“Sofia? You’re here?”
She released me long enough to grab Lucian’s arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Your man asked me to help him out a little bit. You got yourself a good one, Scarlett.” She looked between us with approval.
Then she grabbed my hand.
“All right, it’s time to go. We can’t be late. The priest is waiting.”
My brain stalled.
“The priest?”
Sofia bounced on her heels. “Surprise! I hope you don’t mind, but your man asked me to be your maid of honor. And you know I take that very seriously.”
“But…church? Today?” I turned to Lucian.
He stood there with his head tilted, a grin breaking through the usual seriousness in his expression.
“Why wait?” he said with a shrug. “You said yes.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I leaned up to kiss him again, to reassure myself against the magnitude of what he’d just set in motion, but Sofia tugged me back.
“No. That has to wait until after you say I do.”
She pulled me toward the exit, still laughing.
I let her take me because the look on Lucian’s face told me everything I needed to know.
In my heart, I was already his wife.
The rest was just the celebration.
With her arm hooked through mine, Sofia rushed me out of the club and into a waiting limousine.
The door shut behind us with a solid thud.
And suddenly it was just the two of us.
“Sofia,” I breathed, my voice shaky. “How did you pull this off?”
Tears slipped free despite my effort to blink them back. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
She pulled me into a tight hug and rocked us gently, the way she used to when we were girls and the world was simpler.
“Scarlett,” she whispered. “I have loved you and missed you for so long. What happened to you was unfair. This is just my way of showing you how much you mean to me. My mother is waiting for us at the church too. She can’t wait to see you.”
My breath hitched again. The tears came harder.
“Oh, Sofia. I don’t know what to say.” I pressed my head against her shoulder. “Thank you. For everything. Without you, none of this would have happened. I love you. You’re the sister I never had.”
She pulled back, swiped at her cheek with the back of her hand, then grabbed my arms and gave them a firm squeeze.
“No more tears,” she ordered. “We cannot look like a mess in your wedding photos.”
A shaky laugh escaped me.
“Now don’t worry,” she continued, shifting back into command mode. “I have the perfect dress waiting. And a stylist. You are going to look unreal.”
I blinked at her. “Wait. What church are we going to?”
She grinned as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “Our Lady of Lourdes. Obviously. You know Father McHale would be crushed if he didn’t marry you.”
I let out a small breath. “I guess it is fitting. That’s where Lucian and I met.”
Her head snapped toward me. “You met that man in a church?”
“Yes, Christmas night.”
Her eyes widened. “I thought you were—”
“Ohhh,” she said slowly as realization dawned.
I laughed through the remnants of tears. “Yes. He’s the man who tried to abduct me.”
She stared at me for a second, then shook her head. “We have so much catching up to do.”
She settled back against the seat and crossed her legs. “You need to start your own creator account. All of this is gold. We could collab. We could do appearances. Go out—”
“Oh, no,” I cut in immediately. “That is absolutely not what I should do. I think it’s best I stay your invisible friend.”
I shook my head. “Lucian would lose his mind.”
She laughed. “Yeah. He’s very broody, with I’m-the-only-man-who-gets-to-look-at-Scarlett energy.”
“He is strong-willed,” I admitted.
I leaned forward. “So how did the two of you make this happen?”
“Well,” she said, bouncing her brows, “apparently, he and Giovanni run in the same circles. Gio was furious. A knife through one of his employees’ hands will do that.”
My stomach tightened at the memory.
“Margaretta and I were taken,” she continued. “And did I mention Gio was furious? Somehow Lucian reached out. One thing led to another. Payments were made. Videos were deleted, and we were released. It was a scary night. I think it scarred Margaretta.”
She leaned closer and whispered loudly, “Do not tell anyone, but Gio was hot as hell that night.”
I stared at her. “You are unbelievable.”
“No more than you are,” she shot back, then reached for my hand.
Her thumb brushed over the ring on my finger. “This is gorgeous. It fits you perfectly.”
She looked up at me. “I’m guessing your man got my number from somewhere and figured out we were close. He called a few days ago about setting this up.”
She rolled her eyes. “More like commanded I make the arrangements. He is definitely bossy.”
A slow smile spread across my face. “That sounds like him.”
Her expression softened.
“Scarlett, when he called, he told me a little about what you went through.” She squeezed my hand. “It broke my heart. And he was wrecked by it. I could hear it in his voice.”
My chest tightened.
“When he told me about the surprise wedding, I didn’t hesitate. I would have done anything he asked if it meant giving you something good. He is a good man. And he is lucky to have you.”
Her eyes glistened again.
“You two fit,” she said simply. “I couldn’t be happier.”
I leaned across the seat and hugged her again. This time, we both let the tears fall without pretending we could stop them.
The car slowed, then jolted gently to a stop.
Sofia pulled back and gasped. “Oh my God. We have to stop crying long enough for you to get married.”
She reached for the handle before the driver could move. “Good thing I have a fabulous stylist.”
The door opened, and cool air rushed in.
The driver came around and opened my door. Sofia was already out and pulling me forward.
Within seconds, she had me moving through the familiar side entrance and into the small lounge reserved for brides.
My heart pounded.
This was really happening.
The lounge door closed behind us, sealing out the noise of the church.
The stylist was already there, her tools laid out with military precision across a long table—brushes, pins, curling irons, palettes arranged in neat rows. She looked up once, assessed me in a single sweep, and smiled.
But I barely noticed her.
My attention locked onto the dress.
It hung on a rack in front of the arched mural of St. Cecilia, the patron saint of music. The fabric glowed beneath the overhead lights.
It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.
Lace was shaped into a fitted mermaid silhouette that would trace my curves. The train swept back in a clean line, chapel-length. The veil beside it was light, layers of tulle edged in lace that echoed the gown’s pattern without overwhelming it.
My breath slowed.
For years, I had been told I belonged to something holy. To obedience. To silence. To sacrifice.
It hit me with a clarity that stole the air from my lungs.
I was no longer a bride of Christ.
I was the bride of Lucian Byrnes.
He wasn’t a saint. He wasn’t a savior.
But he had stood between me and hell—and that counted for more than any prayer ever had.
I stepped closer to the gown and reached out, letting my fingertips brush the lace, hardly believing this was mine.
Sofia came up behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder.
“You like it?” she asked softly.
I swallowed. “It’s perfect.”
The stylist stepped forward. “Let’s get you ready.”