Chapter 6
Vox
In three days, I’ll finally get to call Rose my wife.
I’ve never been a guy who likes to show off, but having our rings on will send the right message to anyone coming close to her when I’m not around.
Let them know this gem of a woman isn’t free and never will be.
On the other hand, Rose has been stressing about making everything perfect for our day, even though we chose a simple ceremony with only Shadow and Erin at our sides.
I’m trying my best to take everything off her shoulders and handle even the smallest tasks that are stressing her out, but the truth is, I think it’s gotta do with the concept of marriage itself.
Since she had no say in the wedding her parents forced on her, she seems to be trying to think through every tiny detail, making sure she loves every single bit and piece, because this time she gets to choose.
When she’s spiraling, I hold her tight, and when she needs to think about those things to feel in control, I let her.
There’s a balance with my Rose, and I’d be damned if I didn’t listen to what she needs from me.
The cake will be delivered in the morning, and all my Rose has to do is get ready with Erin and meet me at City Hall.
That part I hate, though. I already refused to spend the night away from her the night before.
It didn’t make sense. I can’t be away from Rose; I’d go insane without her in my arms. She just smiled and said I had to leave for a few hours so she could have a girls’ night.
I’ll go out with Shadow to a bar, and we’ll play darts, that’s the best I can do.
The morning of the wedding, a chauffeur will bring her and Erin to City Hall, and then we’ll all come back together and have our celebration at home.
It should be smooth and easy and the least stressful possible for my girl.
I guess I’ll be the one freaking out once I’m standing there waiting, unable to be sure how she feels or if she needs me.
Erin will be there, that’s the only relief.
Rose is my person, and as mushy as it sounds, apart from work, there’s never a time when I want to be away from her.
Even just being in the same room, breathing the same air, is better than being without her.
I tried making contact with her mom so she could come to the wedding.
I would have told Rose before bringing her, of course, but she never replied.
I don’t hide many things from my girl, but this one I’ll keep buried forever.
Some truths hurt more when said out loud, and Rose already had her fair share.
“Boss, how many do you need?” one of my men, Sam, asks, showing me the guns for a transfer we’re doing to another warehouse opening in the area.
Ares gave me the reins of the West, and I got a lot on my shoulders.
I update him daily, though, ’cause he’s a control freak, but I get it.
Hard to rest when you run an empire. I only got this region and my hands are already full.
I made a rule of being there at dinner time or to pick up Rose from work as often as I can, but sometimes duty calls, and my girl has to be on her own more than I’d like.
When I come back late at night, or even early in the morning the next day, she always greets me with hugs and a hot cup of coffee.
I knew I was lucky, but this year carved it into my chest forever.
Rose knows about my world, our world, and when things get heavy, like the time we lost a few of our brothers during an attack from the Italians, she listened while I opened my vault to her, bleeding out in our kitchen, her hand resting on my chest, listening.
That night, I took to heart what it means to have a partner, a teammate in times of sorrow, and Rose is all those things. My soulmate and my friend.
“Around a hundred. Then label the cases and call Paxon to ask if they’ll need more.”
“Sure, boss. On it.” I leave the main hall and climb the stairs leading to a mezzanine with several rooms. From my desk, I can see everything going on downstairs. The glass is tinted so they can’t see me from the outside, which is ideal.
I finish signing a few of our accounts and reports from members on the field watching other clubs’ behavior, then I open the wardrobe in the corner near the window.
I keep my gear here and the occasional suit needed for meetings.
As I open it, I take in my wedding suit.
A three-piece, all black, with fancy shoes I’ve never worn because that ain’t my usual style.
But for my girl, I need to step up, knowing she’ll be as breathtaking as ever.
I even asked Ares where to buy the damn shoes.
He scoffed but gave me the name. Said it was about time I dressed myself.
I hope Rose will like it. She’s never seen me in a suit like this.
The rings are in the inner pocket and I’ll give them to Shadow once he arrives tomorrow.
I get back to my desk and make a few calls, then deal with an issue we had at the Canadian border.
Once that’s done, I pull up a bunch of sign language videos.
I gotta practice every day, so I keep learning.
I sign my vows twice, making sure I’m doing it perfectly, and spend another few minutes thinking about a sign to use for her name once we’re married.
Sometimes I sign the letter A and the wings of an angel, but I want to change it. Show her I’ve put effort into it.
That kind of care doesn’t turn off when I walk out of the room. My men here know about Rose, and I laid down the rules when we recruited them.
One, don’t disrespect any woman here.
Second, Rose is a fucking treasure and needs to be protected at all costs.
They all know that, which is why the best of them took turns protecting her the few times I had to leave the city for business.
Eyes on her at all times, I warned them.
They knew if one of them was responsible for her even scratching a nail, there would be deadly repercussions.
I can tolerate mistakes on the field as long as my men learn from them.
When it comes to Rose, mistakes aren’t just unacceptable, they’re grounds for exile.
After being satisfied with the sign I came up with for my girl, I grab a note and scribble, the best I can, something to leave on the door Sunday morning.
I wish I were better with words at times like these.
Once it’s done, I fold it and tuck it into the tux, then head downstairs to train a bit, because those cage fights are still very much happening here.
And since my girl likes to watch, I'd better train hard.
Rose
A sugary scent wipes my face as I step into the support group I attend each month.
In three days, I’ll be married, and even if technically nothing will change, everything will feel different.
I’ve been coming here for a year and I’ve always listened without sharing my story.
First, because I was too shy, and second, because I never knew how.
Nobody here speaks ASL, so I wrote everything on a single page and folded it inside my jacket, the letters uneven from how much my hands trembled when I wrote them last night.
Vox rested his hand on my shoulder and kissed my hair before I left.
“Proud of ya,” he said, then headed to the shower.
“Rose, so good to see you,” says Raphael, a twenty-four-year-old with glasses and soft brown hair, his university backpack slung on one shoulder, the long pale scar along his throat still visible.
He was trapped underground for sixteen years of his life, raised to believe the end of the world was coming.
I’ve learned a lot from him with his ability to keep a steady mood even after losing years of his childhood beneath the earth.
I smile and wave, then find Susan, the organizer, welcoming me with her kind hazelnut eyes.
“Donuts? Cookies?” She's wearing a bright pink sweater under her long black hair, adding colour to the moody grey walls surrounding us.
I nod and step closer, taking a chocolate cookie from the white paper box.
The meeting room is arranged in a circle of chairs around a single wooden music stand.
I hover in front of her, nerves buzzing.
“Anything I can help you with, love?” I nod again, hand shaking as I pull the folded sheet from my jacket and give it to her.
“Oh. Thank you, Rose. Do you…want me to read it?” Another nod.
I rest my hand on her forearm and squeeze once, hoping she understands how grateful I am.
“I’ll try my best, honey. Congratulations on sharing your story.
I know…I know how much it takes from someone to share.
Really. Thank you.” There are about twenty of us today, all ages, coming from all over the country.
If we were walking in the street, no one would be able to tell what links us.
That some of us met evil too soon. While others were born blindfolded before even having a chance to see.
Evil didn't spare any of us. It hunted our vulnerability and weaponized it against ourselves. But the fact that we are all here, breathing and rebuilding, is proof that no matter our story, there is always another path forward. As Susan always says, as long as we’re breathing, the restart button is forever there.
“Let’s begin. Greetings, everyone,” Susan says with a clap of her hand.
“Come in quick, quick,” she adds with a witty smile to a woman slipping through the door to grab a chair.
“It’s so good to see all of you. I hope you’re all well.
First, a special thank you to Denis for the donuts and Anna for the delicious cookies.
You’ll have to send me the recipe; they were divine.
” A few laughs and “thank yous” bounce around the room.
“Anyone want to volunteer to start?” Two hands rise, two women I’ve already heard speak before.
One who escaped a spiritual cult a year ago and the other who was abducted into one as a child.
Hesitantly, I raise mine too. “Rose,” Susan smiles softly, “you go first. Then Lottie, then Brenda.” A few faces turn toward me, the girl who cannot speak, curiosity and gentleness in their eyes.
I stand, nerves twisting in my stomach, wishing Vox was here, but I remember insisting he stay at work today.
I can handle it on my own. One step at a time, my white sneakers squeak against the floor.
I’m grateful for my simple blue jeans and cream blouse giving me more confidence than the brown dress I used to wear.
I stand next to Susan and inhale deeply.
She opens my letter and looks at me for permission.
I give her a shy smile, raise my hand to chest height, and nod.
The moment she speaks, I sign beside her.
It may not be my voice, but these are my words and my story, told at my pace.
Everyone watches my hands as they move, pulled into the shape of sentences, the rhythm of silence that has been my language for years now.
My breath quickens and I fumble one sign, but I let out a soundless laugh.
No one cares. What matters is that I’m here, trying.
“Hi everyone, my name is Rose, and as many of you know, I cannot speak. I wrote my story, and Susan will be my voice as I sign it. I was born into a cult called the Faithful Lambs and I escaped a year ago. My parents enrolled when they were in their twenties, and until a few months ago, I believed the outside world was a place of evil, with flames and sins at every corner. Like many of you, I was taught to fear the unknown and be terrified of committing sins. Our beliefs revolved around the journey to the Ascension, and our Leader, the Shepherd, had been chosen by a force greater than us to lead us there. I believed every rule and every custom until a fire burned down our house, the fumes damaging my vocal cords. After that, it all shifted. I started observing our traditions with different eyes, doubting more and more. Everything changed when a man I didn’t know moved into the house next to ours and…
” The story goes on, and for twenty minutes I sign through the truth of my past with clarity and determination.
People watch me with a quiet respect, absorbing what I share, knowing all too well what it is to grow up fenced off from the world.
When I finish, I'm flushed, my heart taking a spin on a treadmill, waiting for their reaction.
Silence stretches.
Then someone claps. Then another. Suddenly, the room fills with applause that swells until it echoes off the walls.
I look instinctively toward the doorway, even though I know Vox isn’t there, and the sound almost feels like his arms wrapping around me.
A tear rolls down my cheek, and I smile, covering my cheeks with both palms.
I did it.