Chapter 40
Chapter forty
Less than an hour later, I stood in front of a full-length mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back at me.
The lace hugged my body as if it had been made for me alone. My hair was swept up into a loose bun at the back of my head, the veil cascading from it in a sheer fall of lace. My makeup was soft but defined.
Was I really about to walk down the aisle and marry a man I had only known for a few weeks?
My gaze drifted to my throat. Beneath the careful layers of foundation, a faint mark still showed. Lucian’s mark. A small bruise that no amount of powder could completely erase.
Heat coiled low in my chest.
Yes.
I was absolutely ready.
He hadn’t come into my life gently. He’d stormed in and torn it apart, stripped away lies, forced truth into the open, and had rescued me from the men who would have buried me. He hadn’t arrived as some polished prince from a childhood story. He was something far more dangerous.
He was my dark knight.
He was a man who would wage war without hesitation. Who would lay ruin to anyone who touched what was his to protect.
And he was the only man who had ever touched me with reverence. The only one who had seen value in me when I couldn’t see it myself.
Today marked the first step into a life I never would have imagined. A world most people feared and pretended didn’t exist.
Strangely, it felt more honest than anything I’d left behind.
He called it the underworld.
I called it home.
A sharp knock echoed through the small lounge.
Before anyone could answer, the door opened.
An older man stepped inside, his presence filling the room before he spoke. He wore an expensive dark suit and a thick gold ring circling one finger on his right hand, which he rolled absently against his knuckle. Authority radiated from him in a way that spoke volumes.
Sofia and the stylist startled.
“Ladies,” he said in a deep, measured tone. “I need a minute with the lovely bride.”
His Italian accent was distinct, its cadence controlled.
Sofia opened her mouth to protest, but he shifted his gaze to her.
It wasn’t threatening.
It was final.
She closed her mouth.
“We’ll be just outside if you need anything, Scarlett,” she said quickly, taking the stylist by the arm and ushering her out. The door shut behind them, and the room was quiet.
The man crossed the distance between us with unhurried steps. I held his gaze in the mirror as he stopped behind me.
He smiled.
It wasn’t kind–it was approving.
He extended his hand.
I turned a little and placed mine in it without hesitation. Lucian would never allow a dangerous man near me, not tonight. Not ever again.
“What a beautiful bride, Miss Hayes,” he said, studying my reflection with an appraising eye. “I’m Luca Genovese. A business associate and family member of your fiancé.”
The way he said family told me exactly what he meant.
It wasn’t a distant relation.
It was an oath.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
“It is my honor this evening to walk you down the aisle.”
My breath caught.
“I didn’t think anyone would be walking with me.”
He turned me gently to face him. His hand came up and cupped my cheek. His touch was firm but careful, his thumb brushing once beneath my eye.
“If there’s one thing you need to understand,” he said, “it’s that family takes care of family.”
He released my face and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. When his hand emerged, he held a small, worn saint card between his fingers.
He turned it so I could see.
Saint Longinus.
“The Roman soldier who pierced Christ’s side,” I said, looking at the image. “The one who drove the lance into Him.”
Luca nodded and placed the card in my hand.
“The wound that made the blood and water flow,” I said slowly, my memory rising. “He committed a violent act. And when the blood touched him, he was transformed by what he witnessed.”
My fingers tightened around the card.
“He wasn’t chosen because he was holy. He was chosen because the piercing revealed the truth, and it changed him.”
I lifted my gaze to Luca.
“But why are you showing me this?”
“I’m glad you know the story,” he said quietly.
“Lucian was given the Saint Longinus card the night he swore his blood oath to the family,” Luca continued. “Each man who stands with us is marked by a saint. Not chosen at random. Never at random. The saint reflects the man he is…and the destiny he will fulfill.”
My fingers trembled as I stared down at the image of the saint.
“Like the soldier who pierced Christ’s side, Lucian was the man who didn’t hesitate to shed blood so that truth might be revealed.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Your husband was marked as Longinus before he ever laid eyes on you.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Luca didn’t look away.
“The first man he ever killed, he killed to protect you—the federal agent who grabbed you at the safe house. Lucian shot him without hesitation.”
My stomach dropped.
“He shot your father when he tried to manipulate you and force you from that house.”
My throat closed.
“He hunted down the man who bought your virginity and killed him.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“And Lola,” he continued evenly, “the woman who coerced you into the sex trade in Spain, who fed you to predators and profited from your survival—Lucian ended her too.”
The weight of it crashed into my chest.
“He didn’t hesitate,” Luca said. “Not once. Because he, like Saint Longinus, committed the violent act and was transformed by what he witnessed.”
My vision blurred.
“He sacrificed his soul when he killed for you,” Luca said, softer now. “And he did it again. And again. And again. Not for power. Not for money. For you.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“I was raised to believe sacrifice was holy,” I whispered.
Luca’s expression didn’t soften, but something in it acknowledged the gravity of that truth.
“Then you understand,” he said. “Your husband is no saint. But he is the man who will spill blood so that you never have to.”
I tried to hand him the card back.
“Keep it,” he said. “Saint Longinus belongs to you now as much as to him.”
I slid the card carefully into the bodice of my dress, pressing it against my heart.
Luca stepped back, studying me once more.
“Traditions matter. Sacraments matter. Even though we do what we do and our souls may be blackened, we honor what is sacred. We follow the rituals and let God sort it out in the end.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to one cheek, then the other.
“Welcome to the family, Scarlett.”
A soft knock broke the quiet.
Sofia’s head appeared through the doorway, eyes wide with excitement. “Father McHale is ready. And you’ve got a church full of people waiting.”
“A church full of people?” I echoed, the words catching in my throat.
Luca didn’t look surprised. “The family comes together for the important rites of passage,” he said, as though it were obvious.
Of course they did.
Sofia pushed the door open wider. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” Luca answered before I could. “Now move along and let me walk our bride down the aisle.”
“Oh.” Sofia glanced at me, confusion flickering across her face.
I nodded and smiled.
It was rare to surprise Sofia. I enjoyed the brief reversal.
She huffed a laugh and turned on her heel, disappearing down the hallway toward the narthex.
Luca stepped closer and guided my hand around the crook of his arm. His posture was straight and grounded.
We walked together to the large wooden doors at the end of the corridor. They stood closed, towering, and carved with scenes I had studied as a girl full of curiosity.
My heart began to race.
Behind those doors sat people who knew Lucian. Men who carried weight in rooms. Women who stood beside them. A world that was about to become mine.
Luca stopped and turned me to face him.
“Take one step at a time,” he said quietly. “Just like the rest of your life.”
He reached for the top layer of my veil and drew it forward over my face. The thin lace softened the world.
My pulse kicked up another notch.
He studied me for a moment. “Lucian is a lucky man. I look forward to seeing those amber-headed babies in your arms.”
Engagement. Wedding. Marriage. Babies.
The words stacked in my mind faster than I could process them. The future expanded outward in directions I’d never let myself imagine.
My vision tipped.
Before I could sway, Luca’s hand tightened around mine, steadying me without making a show of it.
“Breathe,” he murmured, adjusting my hand more firmly on his arm. “You’re not walking into battle.”
Music rose from the sanctuary, echoing off the stone walls. The first notes reverberated in my chest.
The doors began to open.
Light spilled through the widening gap.
Sofia stepped forward with grace, her head held high, her shoulders squared.
For half a heartbeat, I stood still.
Then Luca gave the smallest tug, and I took my first step forward.
When I first saw Lucian standing beside Lachlan at the end of the aisle, I froze.
For half a second, my body forgot how to move. I would have stumbled if Luca hadn’t tightened his hold on my arm.
Lucian stood in a black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and a bow tie that sat perfectly at his throat. He was magnificent. The most handsome man I had ever seen.
As we drew closer, the scowl he wore like armor softened. A slow smile replaced it, and it unraveled something deep in my chest.
I would never deny this man anything.
Luca paused when we reached Father McHale and the others gathered before the altar. He patted my arm once, then placed my hand into Lucian’s.
Lucian’s grip closed around mine.
The edges of the sanctuary blurred.
He reached up and lifted the veil from my face with careful fingers, drawing it back over my hair and letting it settle behind my shoulders. His knuckles grazed my cheek as he adjusted it.
Then he leaned close, his mouth brushing my ear, his Irish lilt low enough for only me to hear.
“God help me,” he murmured. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And you’re mine to protect for the rest of my life.”
My breath left me in a rush.
He straightened, but his thumb stayed hooked around my fingers, anchoring us together.
Father McHale stepped forward, smiling.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
The congregation responded. I echoed them without thinking.
The opening prayer began. Scripture followed. Voices rose and fell. The ritual unfolded around us, but the words passed through me without landing.
All I could see, all I could think about, was Lucian.
His shoulders squared and jaw set, his gaze never leaving mine, as if I were the only altar that mattered.
Father McHale’s voice cut through the haze.
“Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”
Lucian answered first. “I have.”
“I have,” I followed, and meant it.
“Will you love and honor each other for the rest of your lives?”
“I will,” he said.
“I will.”
“Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and His Church?”
Lucian’s hand tightened around mine.
“We will.”
“We will.”
Father McHale nodded, satisfied.
Lucian turned fully toward me and took my hands.
The world narrowed to the space between us.
“Scarlett Rose Hayes,” his voice carried through the church. “Do you take me to be your husband?”
“I do.”
He didn’t hesitate.
“Scarlett, I take you to be my wife. To stand beside me. To share my name. To build our life together. In this world and whatever comes after it.”
There was no flourish in his vow. No performance. Just certainty, the kind of promise he had already proven with his actions.
My heart pounded against my ribs.
“Lucian—” I faltered, heat rising to my cheeks as I realized I didn’t know his middle name.
He smiled and leaned closer, his breath brushing my skin.
“Killian,” he murmured.
A soft ripple of laughter moved through the pews.
I cleared my throat, lifted my chin, and met his eyes.
“Lucian Killian Byrnes, do you take me to be your wife?”
“I do,” he said, tilting his head slightly, that smile curving his mouth in a way that always weakened my knees.
I drew in a steady breath.
“Lucian, I take you to be my husband. To stand beside you. To share your name. To build our life together. In this world and whatever comes after it.”
His gaze never wavered.
Lachlan stepped forward with a small velvet box. He met my eyes for a brief moment, something protective and proud in his expression, then handed the ring to Lucian.
Sofia moved next, placing Lucian’s band in my palm, her smile trembling through tears she refused to hide.
Father McHale blessed the rings.
Lucian slid the band onto my finger.
“Take this ring,” he said, lowering his voice just for me, “as a sign of my love and fidelity.”
His thumb pressed once over the gold, sealing it in place.
I slipped his ring onto his finger.
“Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.”
The metal caught the light between us.
Father McHale raised his hands.
“What God joins together, let no one put asunder.”
Lucian didn’t wait.
He pulled me into him and dipped me back in a single sweeping motion, his arm firm around my waist. Gasps rose from the pews. His mouth claimed mine without hesitation.
The church disappeared.
The crowd vanished.
There was only the man holding me, as if the world had narrowed to my heartbeat.
A deliberate throat-clearing cut through the kiss.
Lucian brought me upright slowly, smiling against my mouth before he pulled back.
Father McHale leaned closer, voice quiet enough for only us to hear.
“Let’s try to keep all the flowers upright this time, shall we? We wouldn’t want scattered pots all over the floor again.”
Heat crept up my neck.
Lucian’s chest rumbled with a restrained laugh.
Communion followed. The host rested on my tongue. The wine burned faintly. Father McHale’s final blessing settled over us, solemn and unshakeable.
And then—
We turned.
The doors opened. Applause rose, filling the sanctuary.
Lucian’s hand closed around mine, firm and sure, and he led me down the aisle. Faces blurred past. Laughter and warmth and the scent of flowers that had, indeed, remained upright.
Out the doors.
Down the stone steps.
Toward the black limousine waiting at the curb.
Lucian opened the door, then paused. He looked at me as though I were something he still couldn’t believe belonged to him.
“Come, my wife,” he said quietly, guiding me inside.
The door shut.
And just like that, my old life ended beneath the echo of church bells and the steady presence of the man who had just promised me forever.