Epilogue
SIENNA
T hree months later, I stand in front of the full-length mirror in Valentina's bedroom, hardly recognizing the woman staring back at me. The dress is everything I never dared to dream of, made of ivory silk that flows like water over my curves, delicate lace sleeves that make me feel like a princess, and a train that pools behind me in a gentle puddle of silk, not overdramatic but still elegant. Valentina helped me choose it, and we’ve grown closer over the past three months than I could have ever hoped.
We’re close friends now, and I’m grateful that in finding Damian, I also found her.
"You look beautiful," Valentina assures me from where she’s standing behind me, slipping the comb of my veil into my curled and perfectly styled hair. I thought the veil was a bit of overkill, considering that I’m technically already married to Damian, but he insisted that we do it all properly, as if this were our first wedding.
In some ways, it is—the first time we’ve done this of our own free will, chosen each other, just like we will for the rest of our lives.
Valentina looks beautiful, glowing in her rose-gold gown, her pregnant belly very pronounced now. Her dark hair is swept up in a chignon, and she looks like the picture of elegance .
"I can't believe this is really happening," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
It's been a whirlwind since that night in the hospital. Damian kept his promise—he didn't walk away, and he did his best not to retreat behind his walls. He tried, over and over, and even when he failed, even when I could feel him starting to pull away, he always came back to me.
I know we’ll always come back to each other. And I believe in him, even if he doesn’t always believe in himself.
The wedding planning was a whirlwind, too, but I had Valentina to help with that, at least. We hired a wedding planner, decided on the estate’s gardens for a venue, and coordinated everything in between me helping to care for Damian and dealing with his moods as he convalesced, which wasn’t easy for anyone.
But we’re here, and he’s on his own two feet, recovered at last.
"He loves you," Valentina says simply, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "I've never seen him like this. Happy. At peace."
She's right. The change in Damian has been remarkable.
The hard edges are still there—I don't think they'll ever completely disappear—but there's a softness now, a contentment that radiates from him when he looks at Adam and me.
He's still the most dangerous man I've ever met, but he's also become the most devoted husband and father I could have imagined.
A soft knock at the door interrupts my thoughts, and Adam peeks his head in, looking absolutely adorable in his tiny black tuxedo. He's taken his role as ring bearer very seriously, as I can see when he walks in, clutching the small velvet pillow like it contains the crown jewels.
"Mama, you look like a princess!" he gasps, his green eyes wide with wonder.
"Thank you, baby." I kneel down carefully, mindful of my dress, and cup his face in my hands. "Are you ready to help Mama and Damian get married?"
He nods solemnly. "Damian said I'm the most important person in the whole wedding because I have the rings. "
"That's right," I assure him. "You're the most important person."
Another knock, and this time it's Konstantin in the doorway, looking handsome in his own black tuxedo. "Ladies, it's time."
My stomach flutters with nerves and excitement.
Through the window, I can see the gardens transformed into something out of a fairy tale.
White roses and baby's breath cover every surface, with strands of fairy lights twinkling in the late afternoon sun.
Chairs arranged in perfect rows are filled with the small group of people who matter most to us—some of Konstantin's men and their wives, the estate staff who've become like family, and a few of the girls from the club that I’ve missed enough to want to try to reconnect with them again.
"Is he nervous?" I ask Konstantin, suddenly needing to know.
Konstantin chuckles. "Terrified. He's been pacing for the past hour, asking if you've changed your mind."
The idea that Damian is nervous about our wedding makes my heart flutter with love. "Never," I say firmly. "I would never change my mind."
"That's what I told him." Konstantin offers me his arm. "Shall we go put him out of his misery?"
I take a deep breath, smoothing my hands over my dress one last time. "Let's do this."
The walk through the estate feels like a dream. Staff members peek out from doorways with warm smiles, and I can hear the soft sounds of the string quartet Damian insisted on hiring. When we reach the French doors that lead to the garden, I pause, suddenly overwhelmed by the moment.
This is it. This is my real wedding, the one I got to choose, the one that's about love instead of survival.
"Ready, Mama?" Adam asks, tugging on my hand.
I smile down at him, giving him a gentle nudge to walk out in front of me. "Ready, sweetheart."
The doors open, and the first person I see is Damian.
He's standing under a rose-covered archway, hands clasped behind his back, looking devastating in his perfectly tailored black tuxedo.
But it's his face that makes my heart stutter—the raw emotion written across his features as he sees me.
His usual composure cracks completely, and I see his throat work as he swallows hard.
The music begins, something classical and beautiful that he chose, and suddenly I'm walking down the aisle toward the man I love.
The guests rise, but I barely notice them.
All I can see is Damian, the way his dark blue eyes never leave mine, the slight tremor in his mouth that tells me he's as affected by this moment as I am.
Adam walks in front of me, taking his job very seriously, and I can see several people in the audience smile at his concentrated expression. When we reach the altar, he scampers over to take his place next to Damian, who ruffles his hair affectionately.
"You look beautiful, dikaya koshka ," Damian murmurs softly as I take his hands, his Russian accent roughening the endearment, as it always does. I’ll never get tired of hearing it.
"You clean up pretty well yourself," I whisper back, making him smile.
Konstantin takes his place as the officiant—we didn’t need a minister, since we’re legally already married—and begins a prepared speech about love and commitment and how we got here. But I'm only half listening, lost in Damian's eyes, in the way his thumbs trace gentle circles over my knuckles.
"The couple has chosen to write their own vows," Konstantin announces. "Damian?"
Damian clears his throat, and I can see him gathering his courage. Public displays of emotion don't come naturally to him, but he's here, in front of all these people, ready to bare his heart for me.
"Sienna," he begins, his voice rough with emotion. "Four months ago, I married you because I thought it was the only way to keep you safe. I told myself it was temporary, that I could protect you without getting involved, without caring."
He pauses, his grip on my hands tightening.
"I was wrong about everything. You didn't need me to save you—you saved me. You saw past everything I thought I was, everything I was afraid of, and you loved me anyway. You gave me a family I never thought I deserved, and you made me believe I could be the man you see when you look at me."
Tears are streaming down my cheeks now, but I don't care. Around us, I can hear soft sniffles from the audience, but my whole world has narrowed to this man and his words.
"I promise you," he continues, his voice growing stronger, "that I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving that your faith in me wasn't misplaced. I promise to protect you and Adam, to love you both always, and to never again let fear make me walk away from what matters most."
He reaches out to take the first ring from Adam—a thin rose gold band studded with diamonds, and slides it gently onto my finger. "I love you, Sienna Monroe," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for choosing me."
I swallow back my tears, forcing myself to speak clearly enough that I can be heard, my voice still wobbling a little.
“Damian—you say I saved you, but you saved me first. You saved me not just from the danger you found us in, but from a life where I was just surviving, where I didn’t know how good things could be.
You gave us your protection, but more than that, you gave us love. "
I can see him swallow hard, his composure cracking again.
"You are the strongest, most honorable man I've ever known. You're fierce in protecting what you love, and brave enough to open your heart even when it scares you. Adam and I are so lucky to be yours."
I slide his ring—a simple platinum band engraved with navsegda tvoy , ‘forever yours’ in Russian—onto his finger.
"I promise to love all of you—your danger, your fierceness, your strength, and your love, forever.
I promise to fight for us, to trust you with my heart, and to remind you every day that you deserve to be happy.
" My voice breaks on the last words. "I love you, Damian. Thank you for making us a family."
Konstantin smiles as we both turn to look at him. “I now pronounce you man and wife,” he says, amusement in his eyes at the formality of it. “I think it’s time you kissed your bride, Damian.”
He didn’t kiss me at the altar that first rainy night, when he dragged me to the church and made me his.
But now, under the rose-covered arch, his hands cupping my face with a gentleness that I know is only for me, his lips meet mine in a deep, devouring kiss that has the guests clapping before he comes up for air.
It’s fierce and sweet and full of need and promise, and it’s everything I could have ever wished for and more.