Chapter 23 – Lance
Chapter Twenty-Three
I meant Every Word…
Lance
One thing I was particularly good at…besides killing people was avoiding shit.
Exactly one week since our engagement party and here I was getting married with no idea where I stood with my own wife to be
One thing was certain though. I couldn't take my fucking eyes off her.
She stood before me, radiant in white, her honey brown skin glowing against the delicate fabric of her white satin dress.
The sunlight streaming through the massive windows caught the golden undertones of her complexion, making her appear as though she was lit from within.
Her eyes, those expressive golden-brown pools I'd drowned in countless times. Her make-up was subtle, but she’d done something to her eyes to somehow make them stand out even more.
The intricate braids she'd spent hours getting done were pulled into an elegant updo, with a few tendrils framing her face. The veil cascaded down her back, shimmering with tiny crystals that matched the delicate beading on her dress.
She's beautiful. And she's yours.
On paper, at least.
My throat tightened as Atticus placed her hand in mine, his eyes conveying a silent warning I'd come to know well, hurt her and die. Then he stepped away, taking his place in the front row, leaving Morgan and me alone before everyone.
We still hadn't decoded all the data from the gala infiltration—Gwen was working on it, but these things took time. Today, though, I'd decided to push all of that aside. Today was about this moment, this woman, this chance I might never get again.
If you can keep her satisfied, maybe she'll remember what you had. Maybe she'll want it back.
The thought felt pathetic even as it crossed my mind, but I couldn't help it.
We hadn't exactly been having deep conversations lately.
Just falling into each other's arms every chance we got, using sex to fill the silence where words should be.
As if we were both afraid of where conversations might lead.
But for me, every touch meant something. Every kiss was real.
Now you just have to convince her.
Micah stood beside me as my best man, his usually joking demeanor replaced with something more solemn. He'd been surprised when I asked him, but he'd accepted with a quiet understanding that meant more than I could express.
Across from us, Gwen stood as maid of honor, her designer dress complementing Morgan's perfectly. Despite her smile, I could see the protective vigilance in her eyes. Like her husband, she was making it clear that this arrangement didn't change her priorities—Morgan's wellbeing came first.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Pierce and his team positioned at strategic points around the venue. Dark suits, earpieces, vigilant eyes scanning the crowd—security that wouldn't be obvious to the casual observer but was unmistakable to anyone who knew what to look for.
Her hand trembled slightly in mine. So small, so deceptively delicate for someone who'd faced down danger without flinching. I gave it a gentle squeeze, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my fingertips.
Standing here with her, nothing felt rehearsed. Nothing felt fake.
Not for you, anyway.
The officiant began with the traditional opening, welcoming our guests, speaking about the sanctity of marriage.
I barely heard the words. I was too busy cataloging every detail of Morgan's face—the slight nervousness in her eyes, the way she held her lower lip between her teeth when she was anxious.
"And now," the officiant said, "the couple will exchange traditional vows."
Morgan's eyes settled on mine, steady and determined. Ready to say the lines we'd practiced.
"Actually," I said, my voice carrying across the hushed room. "I've prepared my own."
Her eyes widened slightly, that gorgeous mouth parting in surprise. She hadn't expected this deviation from our script. Neither had I, until this very moment.
Fuck the script. She needs to know.
But standing here, with her hand in mine, I couldn't bring myself to recite empty words. Not when there was so much unsaid between us. Not when my chest felt like it might burst with everything I needed her to know.
I took a deep breath, ignoring the startled whispers from the audience, focusing only on her face.
"Morgan," I began, my voice low and steady despite the hammering of my heart. "When you walked into my life, I was a man in fragments. Pieces of myself that I'd carefully compartmentalized, never existing as a whole. Never truly seen."
Her fingers tightened around mine, a question in her eyes.
"You challenged that," I continued. "You demanded more than the parts I wanted to show. You saw through the walls I'd built and called me on every defense."
The room around us seemed to fade away, narrowing to just her face, her eyes, her slightly parted lips.
"I vow to be transparent with you from this day forward," I said, the weight of this promise settling into my bones.
"Where there have been shadows, I will bring light.
Where I have hidden myself, I will stand revealed.
No more half-truths. No more hiding. You deserve the whole of me, not just the pieces I think you can handle. "
Her breath caught, her fingers trembling in mine.
"I vow to protect you," I continued, my voice deepening with conviction, "not by controlling your world or making decisions for you, but by standing beside you against whatever comes.
By trusting you to be the fierce, capable woman you are.
By being your shield when you need one and your strength when you don't."
The corner of her mouth quirked up at that, and my chest tightened with a surge of emotion so powerful it nearly knocked me back.
"I vow to let you know me—really know me. The good and the bad. The darkness and the light. All that I am, I give to you. All that I have, I share with you. All that I become, I become with you."
Her eyes glistened, and I fought the urge to brush away the tears threatening to spill.
I reached for my wrist, unclasping the watch I always wore—the one she'd borrowed countless times when anxiety struck, when she needed to focus on something steady and reliable.
"Just as this watch has marked every second we've shared," I said, holding it between us, "I vow to give you time.
To stop when you need me to stop. To wait when you need me to wait.
To give you space to breathe when the world closes in.
" My voice dropped even lower. "And I vow to cherish every moment I'm given with you, because time with you is the greatest gift I could ever receive. "
I returned the watch to my wrist, a symbol of my commitment.
"And I vow to always be there for you. To catch you when you need it and to step back when you don't. To love you not in spite of your fire, but because of it."
My voice dropped lower, meant only for her ears.
"Because to me, you'll always be my Spitfire. The woman who walked into my world and set it ablaze. And I wouldn't have it any other way."
A single tear escaped, sliding down her cheek. Before I could stop myself, I reached up and caught it with my thumb, a gesture too intimate for the audience watching us, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
Please let her understand. Please let her see this is real.
The officiant cleared her throat gently, bringing us back to the moment. Morgan blinked rapidly, composing herself. When she spoke, her voice was clear and steady, despite the emotion swimming in her eyes.
She recited the traditional vows we'd practiced, but there was something different in her delivery now. Something real. Or maybe I was just projecting, wishing for a change that wasn't there.
Stop hoping for what isn't there. You'll have to earn this.
The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur—the rings, the pronouncement, the kiss. I kept it chaste, mindful of our audience, but even that brief press of her lips against mine sent electricity racing down my spine.
And then we were walking back down the aisle, husband and wife, her arm looped through mine. The crowd rose as we passed, applauding, smiling, unaware that this marriage was built on deception.
Except it didn't feel like deception anymore. Not to me.
The reception was in full swing by the time we finished taking photos. The grand ballroom had been transformed into a winter wonderland—crystal chandeliers casting prismatic light across ivory linens, arrangements of white roses and silver-dusted greenery creating an ethereal atmosphere.
Security remained vigilant but unobtrusive—Gavin by the main entrance, Rowan monitoring the terrace doors, others strategically placed throughout the room. Pierce had made sure every server, every staff member, had been thoroughly vetted.
Morgan and I made our way through the crowd, accepting congratulations, playing our parts. Her hand remained in mine, warm and solid, a tether keeping me grounded. The diamond on her finger caught the light with every gesture she made.
"That was quite a surprise," she murmured when we finally had a moment alone, her voice deliberately light. "The vows."
I studied her face, trying to read what was happening behind those expressive eyes. "Too much?"
She shook her head slightly. "Just... unexpected."
"I meant every word," I said, the confession slipping out before I could think better of it.
Something flickered across her face—surprise, disbelief, maybe something else entirely.
She doesn't believe you. Why would she? You haven't exactly been talking.
Before she could respond, the photographer approached, asking for more pictures. Morgan's professional smile slid back into place, and the moment was gone.
Throughout the reception, I watched her—the way she laughed with Amber, the tenderness with which she held baby Ava.
Relishing the fact that she was mine.
When it came time for our first dance, I led her to the center of the floor, one hand at the small of her back, the other clasping hers.
I pulled her slightly closer, my thumb tracing small circles against her lower back.
Her teeth caught her lower lip, and it took everything in me not to lean down and capture that mouth with mine. “This feels real, Lance.”
I searched her gaze for a log moment, before leading her into the start of our dance. “Because it can be, if that’s what you want. Nothing has changed for me. I meant every single word of my vows.”
I'd fallen for her. Hard. Somewhere between her challenging me at every turn and supporting me when I needed it most. Between her fierce independence and her unwavering loyalty to those she loved.
I loved her. And she had no idea.
Because Morgan wasn't just my wife on paper. She was the piece of me I hadn't known was missing until I found her.
And I would be damned if I let her go without a fight.