22. Aisling
Chapter twenty-two
Aisling
I shift from foot to foot, the cold marble floor a stark reminder that I’m about as unadorned beneath this dress as the truth beneath my skin. The gown clings to every curve, sparkling like a constellation caught in fabric, its whiteness almost too glaring against the backdrop of my life.
“Stop staring,” I mutter, my cheeks warming under Rook’s unwavering gaze. But there’s no bite in my words.
How could there be when he’s looking at me like I’m something precious?
His lips twitch up into a smirk. “Can’t help it.” He leans closer, his breath ghosting over my ear. “You’re stunning.”
There’s an odd flutter in my chest. “This dress…it’s a lie, Rook.” My voice is barely above a whisper, betraying the unease that knots in my stomach. “It makes me look pure, innocent. I’m anything but.”
Rook’s hands are suddenly cupping my face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. His touch is soft, gentle, as if he knows just how much strength to use to not break me. It’s what I love about him…and fuck, I do love him. I love each of them in their own way.
“Hey,” he says firmly, “no one gives a damn about purity here. Not us. You know what we value?” His thumbs brush away an anxiety I didn’t realize knotted my brows. “Your fire. Your guts to fight for a better world. That spirit of yours.”
His words wrap around me, steadying the tremble that threatened to seize control. It’s not the dress that matters—it never was. It’s the resolve to stand amidst the chaos of this tarnished world and still dare to hope, to dream.
Before I can respond, Rook’s lips press softly against mine, a tender affirmation of his words, and for a moment, the world falls away. It’s just us, in this bubble where nothing else exists but the promise of what we are to each other.
As our kiss lingers, a warm, large hand rests on my shoulder, grounding me back to reality. I turn, pulling away from Rook’s soft lips, to find Oberon standing there. His presence is like a bastion of strength; his dark hair is neatly combed back, and his beard trimmed to perfection. The usual ruggedness he carries is polished into a refined version of the man who never leaves my side, especially not when things get rough.
“Looking sharp, Oberon,” I remark, a genuine smile tugging at my lips.
“Only the best for tonight,” he replies, his voice deep and steady.
“Are you…okay with this?” I ask tentatively. It’s one thing to share a pack bond—it’s another to stand together as I pledge myself to Gunnar in a way society deems singular and absolute.
“Of course, Aisling.” Oberon meets my gaze, his deep golden-brown eyes crinkling in reassurance. “This changes nothing about us.”
“Good,” I sigh, relief washing over me. “Because you’re next, right?”
He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates through me. “That’s right. And I’m thinking the next one will be a destination event. Just the pack, sun, and sand.”
I laugh, shaking my head at the thought. “A sunny beach wedding? Really, Oberon?”
“Really,” he affirms with a grin. “Why not? We deserve some peace after all the storms we’ve weathered.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I admit, warmth blossoming in my chest.
This is my pack—imperfect, chaotic, but mine. And in this moment, under the dim lights of the chapel, with the two men I trust most in the world by my side, I feel a sense of belonging that no dystopian nightmare can ever take away.
The tinny notes of a synthesized wedding march filter through the air, and it’s just corny enough to make my heart skip. I glance at Rook to my left then to Oberon on my right; their expressions a mix of solemnity and warmth. We’re doing this—really doing this.
“Ready?” Rook whispers, his voice barely audible over the music.
“Let’s do it,” I reply, feeling a flutter in my stomach that isn’t entirely nerves. It’s excitement too, a thrill for the future despite the chaos of our world.
Oberon gives my arm a gentle squeeze, steadying me as the chapel attendant pulls open the door with a flourish. The sight before me steals my breath—the aisle stretches out like a path into another dimension.
And Gunnar, wearing a suit that’s a little too snug around the shoulders…his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Flanked by Luka and Nero, he looks every bit the Alpha I know him to be—strong, resolute, yet vulnerable in this moment.
A wave of something like awe washes over me. How did I end up here? The chapel’s beauty is a stark backdrop to the chaos that has become our lives. And yet, amidst it all, there stands my pack —the most incredible group of misfits, bound together by choice rather than chance.
“Ready?” Rook whispers as we take those final steps toward the future.
“More than ever,” I whisper back, my voice steady even though my knees feel like they might give out.
We step forward, and the chapel unfolds around us—a beauty born from necessity and quick decisions. Twinkle lights dangle from the ceiling, their soft glow illuminating the space and lending it an ethereal quality. Silver star lanterns are scattered throughout, catching the light and casting delicate shadows.
It’s like walking through a nebula crafted by human hands, a slice of the universe brought down to embrace us. Splashes of purple and midnight blue paint the walls and ceiling, a galaxy far from the reach of any regime or societal constraint.
Here, we’re just people taking steps towards a promise, towards a unity of our own making.
“Never thought I’d get married under the stars,” I murmur, my voice tinged with awe.
“Seems fitting for the Stargazer,” Oberon replies, his tone light but sincere.
“Best last-minute decor I’ve ever seen,” Rook adds, a smile evident in his voice.
I can’t help but agree. This haphazardly beautiful chapel is more than I could have hoped for—a place where I can stand and declare my love, surrounded by those who matter most. It’s not about luxury or grandeur; it’s about the bond we share, unbreakable and true, even in a world that tries its hardest to tear us apart.
And as we move forward, flanked by makeshift constellations and bathed in the soft luminescence of countless tiny lights, I am grounded by the strength at my sides. This walk down the aisle isn’t just a formality—it’s a testament to our survival, to our refusal to let the darkness win.
“Look at you, Aisling Faye,” Rook whispers, “walking straight into your own fairy tale.”
“More like a space opera,” I quip back, unable to suppress my grin, “with a bit of a twist.”
My steps falter slightly as my gaze catches on two unexpected figures seated at the very front of the chapel. Inari, with her sharp eyes and a smile that’s all cunning, watches us approach. Beside her, Isla, ever the stoic enigma, but even she can’t fully hide the twitch at the corner of her lips.
“Did someone invite them?” I hiss under my breath to Rook, hoping my voice doesn’t carry.
He sighs, a sound that vibrates through the charged air around us. “Inari has her ways. She probably caught wind of it and decided to show up.”
“Great,” I mutter, my heart hammering against my ribs, not from nerves about the ceremony, but from the unexpected complication sitting so calmly in front of me.
But as we draw closer, I notice Inari’s expression isn’t one of malice or rage. Instead, there’s an odd sort of approval in her gaze, a recognition of the step we’re taking tonight. It’s unsettling, knowing that someone like her can still surprise me.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones breaking the rules,” Oberon murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
“Seems like it,” I reply, swallowing hard.
And then I see it—the ghost of a grin that flits across Isla’s face as she locks eyes with Rook. It’s gone in a heartbeat, replaced by her usual impassive mask, but it’s enough to tell me that there might be more layers to our guests than I anticipated.
“Surprise is the spice of life, right?” Rook says, his tone light but his grip on my arm tightening just a fraction.
“Or the catalyst for chaos,” I say, shooting him a wry look.
“Either way, it makes things interesting,” he counters with a smirk.
As we continue our procession, I force myself to focus on the moment, on the now. Whatever Inari’s and Isla’s presence means, it can wait. Right now, this is about us—about me and the pack I’ve chosen, the family I never expected to find.
We reach the altar, and Rook and Oberon take their places beside me, their presence a comforting weight. The officiant, a man with a stern face and kind eyes, begins the ceremony with a clear, strong voice. But it’s just noise, a formality that pales in comparison to the silent vows we’ve already made to each other.
“Before we proceed with the exchange of rings,” the officiant says, “it is customary for you to share your vows.”
Gunnar takes my hands, cutting off the officiant with a determined glance. “I want to say something first.” His voice is firm, but I can hear the undercurrent of nerves. It’s rare to see him anything less than confident lately, and it reminds me of the Gunnar I fell in love with…a man who feels like he’s been a million miles away.
But now, he’s here—the same man who took one step inside Dreamland and made a decision that would change everything.
He takes a deep breath, and I can tell that what he’s about to say comes from the depths of his soul. My hands tremble slightly as I await his words, knowing that whatever comes next will seal our fates together, for better or worse.
Gunnar squeezes my hands, the calluses on his palms a testament to the battles he’s fought, for us, for our future. His eyes are a mirror of emotions—hope, fear, and a love so raw it’s almost painful to see.
“Aisling,” he starts, and that slight waver in his voice is more intimate than any whispered confession in the dark. “I know we’ve been through hell and back—more than most could ever handle. Our path has been littered with trials that have tested us, pushed us to our limits.”
He pauses, swallows hard, and I can tell he’s gathering the shards of his heart to lay bare before me. “And despite all that, here you stand, with me. You’re the fire that keeps me warm during the coldest nights, the star guiding me through the darkest skies. Things haven’t been easy, and I’d be a damn fool to pretend they were. But every challenge, every tear shed, it’s led us to this moment. Aisling, I swear on everything that I am—I will protect you, I will fight for you, and I will love you until my last breath.”
Tears cloud my vision, a river breaking through the dam of my composure. I blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay, but they betray me, spilling over in silent homage to Gunnar’s words.
“Fuck, Gunnar…” My voice comes out choked, heavy with the weight of my own emotions. “I didn’t prepare anything—not like that. But maybe that’s because there are no words grand enough to describe what’s in my heart.”
I pause, biting my lip, trying to keep my composure. I was really hoping we could just say the words—not because I don’t feel these things for Gunnar, but because I’m not sure I can even get the words out.
“All I can do is stand by your side, come what may,” I continue. :Through the chaos, through the silence, through every breath and every battle… I know our love was written in the stars. It’s the one constant in this ever-changing world. I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you, Gunnar Finch.”
The officiant clears his throat, gently reminding us that there’s an audience to our private confessions. But it doesn’t matter. In this space, in this moment, it’s just Gunnar and me and the unbreakable bond we’ve forged amidst the flames of adversity.
“The rings?” the officiant prompts, drawing me back.
Gunnar holds my hand in one of his, and takes the ring in his other hand. I glance down at it, finding a sparkling diamond flanked by smaller black diamonds glittering even in the soft light of the chapel. It’s more than jewelry; it’s a symbol of everything we’ve been through, everything we are, and everything we’re going to be.
It’s perfect.
Gunnar takes my left hand with a tenderness that belies his strength, sliding the band onto my finger. It fits perfectly—as if it’s always belonged there. The metal is cool against my skin, but his touch sets off a warmth that spreads throughout my entire body.
“Wow,” I breathe out, unable to keep the awe from my voice. “It’s beautiful.”
He nods, his eyes locked with mine, full of love and promises of forever. I reach for his hand next, the ring I have chose for him before picking out my dress glinting in my palm. It’s simpler than mine but no less significant—a band of dark metal that suits him so well. As I slip it onto his finger, he exhales slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.
“By the power vested in me by the state and as witnessed by those present here,” the officiant finally says, a smile in his voice, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may—”
But Gunnar’s lips are already on mine before the words can be fully formed, cutting off any formality. The kiss is deep, filled with all the emotion we’ve held back, all the pain we’ve endured, and all the love we share. It’s a promise, an end and a beginning.
“Mr. and Mrs. Finch,” the officiant finishes, but his words are drowned out by the cheers erupting around us.
The pack is crowding around us, clapping and howling their approval, their joy filling the space. I catch sight of Inari and Isla, standing in that first pew, their expressions ones of cautious happiness. Inari’s lips curl into a knowing smile while Isla’s stoicism breaks for a moment, allowing a genuine grin to shine through.
“Mrs. Finch,” Gunnar whispers against my lips, his breath mingling with mine. And in that whisper, I find everything I’ve ever wanted: a home, a family, a future. Despite the darkness of our world, in this pocket of light, we are infinite.
And no matter what happens, no matter what comes our way…I belong to Gunnar.
Officially.
Forever.