53. Audra #2
Gabe leans in and kisses my forehead, then my lips, soft and reverent.
"It's not insane. It's necessary. For my peace of mind.
For theirs." His hand rests gently over my stomach.
"And because I love you more than I know how to handle.
Let me give you my name tonight. Let me make it official in the only way I know how right now.
The big wedding—the dress, the flowers, the whole spectacle—we'll do that when you're ready.
When the world knows you're mine because you chose it, not because I demanded it. "
A secret marriage. A future that feels equal parts terrifying and perfect.
And the man beside me who would walk through fire—who already did—just to keep our babies and me safe.
I close my eyes and let myself sink into him.
My heart is still racing, my emotions are still a storm… but I'm no longer alone in it.
A few minutes later, Gabe is texting rapidly with one hand while still holding mine with the other.
His thumb keeps stroking my knuckles like he needs the constant contact to stay grounded.
I watch him, battered and exhausted but still so intensely focused, and feel that overwhelming mix of love and disbelief settle deeper in my chest.
The SUV slows and pulls up in front of one of those cheap Vegas wedding chapels, the kind with flashing neon hearts and a sign that proudly declares 24-Hour Weddings – No Appointment Needed.
It feels completely surreal. We're both dirty, bruised, and stitched up from the nightmare we just survived.
I'm still wearing the blood-stained designer shirt and bandages, and my hair is a mess.
Gabe looks like he went ten rounds with death and barely won.
Yet here we are.
A cheerful older woman in a sparkly pink dress meets us at the door and immediately places a cheap white veil on my head, adjusting it with practiced efficiency.
I barely register the words I'm supposed to say.
Everything feels like it's happening through a thick fog.
My voice repeats the vows on autopilot, distant and dreamlike.
Even though deep down I know this is exactly where I'm meant to be.
Gabe stands in front of me, holding both my hands, his swollen eye and stitched gash making him look even more dangerous and beautiful than usual. When it's his turn, his voice drops into that low, commanding tone that sends shivers down my spine.
"Audra," his eyes are locked on mine with fierce intensity, "you are the only thing in this world that has ever made me want to be better.
I will burn every enemy, tear down every empire, and spill every drop of blood necessary to keep you and our babies safe.
You are mine. You have been since I first saw you.
And tonight, I'll make it official. I will love you, protect you, and worship you until the day I die—even after that if I have any say in it. "
The words hit me straight in the soul, raw, possessive, and romantic in that dark, all-consuming way only Gabe can manage.
Tears slip down my cheeks as the officiant pronounces us husband and wife.
Before I can even process it, a man Gabe introduces as Kale, head of security, comes running in from the side door, slightly out of breath, holding up a small black velvet box.
"Your ring," he says, handing it to Gabe with a quick nod.
I blink, stunned. "You already had a ring?"
Gabe takes the box, his expression softening into something almost boyish beneath all the bruises. "Baby, I bought this ring the day after I first saw you."
He opens the box. Inside is the most perfect ring I've ever seen, a stunning oval-cut diamond in the center, surrounded by a halo of smaller, fiery opals that catch the light like living flames, set in rose gold with delicate scrollwork that looks both vintage and dangerously modern.
It's bold. It's beautiful. It's unmistakably me.
Gabe slides it onto my finger. It fits flawlessly.
I stare at it, tears blurring my vision. "You just happened to be at a jewelry store?"
He laughs, low, warm, and so full of love it makes my chest ache. "I saw it in the window. Knew instantly it belonged on your hand. I've had it in my safe ever since, waiting for the right moment."
I look up at him, overwhelmed. "Gabe…"
He leans in and kisses me, slow, deep, claiming, right there in the tacky little chapel while the officiant awkwardly clears his throat. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
"Mrs. D'Amato," he murmurs almost hoarsely. "Mine. My wife! Finally."
I laugh through the tears, still reeling from the word wife, the ring on my finger, the twins growing inside me, and the man who just made me his in every possible way.
It's insane. It's too fast. It's everything I never knew I needed.
And right now, standing here battered and married in a cheap Vegas chapel, I wouldn't change a single thing.
We reach the penthouse just as the sun vanishes behind the mountains, turning the Strip back over to tourists for another night of losing hundreds or thousands of dollars and calling it fun.
I startle at my own hypocrisy. I have no right to judge.
None. I just got married in a cheap wedding chapel. Again.
The thought hits me in waves as the elevator rises.
I feel like I'm living someone else's life.
The old Audra—the one who packed lunches and scheduled dental cleanings—would be horrified.
The girl who used to dance on tables is grinning like a fool.
Somehow, the two of them need to learn to coexist. Gabe's hand stays wrapped around mine the entire ride up.
The doors open into the antechamber. I tense instinctively, dreading the blood, the bodies, the horror we left behind only a few, life-altering hours ago. But it's gone.
Everything is pristine. Marble floors gleam, not a single stain in sight. New guards stand at their posts, silent, professional, faces I don't recognize. It feels surreal, like the violence was just a bad dream someone cleaned up while we were gone.
Gabe notices my hesitation and squeezes my hand. "It's handled," he assures me quietly. "You don't have to think about it tonight. And neither your Mom nor Esther is any the wiser. They never left the apartment."
I nod, but my legs feel shaky as we step inside. We've barely crossed the threshold when my mom's voice assaults us from the living area.
"Where have you been?" She hurries toward us, phone in hand, voice shrill.
"I've been trying to call you for hours!
You have no idea what I've been through—" She stops mid-step, eyes widening as she takes us in, the bruises, the stitches, the blood-stained clothes, the exhaustion carved into both our faces.
"What happened to you?"
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I don't know where to start. The bar. The gun. Gabe falling. The twins. The secret wedding. It's all too much.
Gabe steps in smoothly, as calm and controlled as ever. "We had a small car accident. Audra needs some rest."
"Oh my…" Mom is at my side in an instant, fussing over me with surprising gentleness. "You poor thing. I'd take care of you, but Mittens is missing. They both got out when?—"
"Found Mr. Fluffball, I think," Esther calls from one of the guest bedrooms, sounding slightly amused.
Gabe doesn't wait. He ushers me gently but firmly down the hallway toward the master bedroom, his arm slung around my waist possessively. The moment the door closes behind us, the weight of the day crashes down. I sway on my feet.
"Is it bad that I just want to take a shower and sleep?" I ask weakly.
Gabe shakes his head; his eyes are soft despite the exhaustion and bruises. "No. Not bad at all. Let me take care of you." He guides me to the bed. "Sit."
He walks to the bar area and comes back with a bottle of water. "I'll run you a bath and order food."
I take the water gratefully. Our hands brush, and a new concern overcomes me. "Gabe. You need rest, too. You've been shot."
"I will get rest, as soon as you're taken care of." He promises, and I'm too tired to argue.
He carries me into the bathroom, turning on the enormous bathtub, and adds a fresh, clean scent to it. His hands are gentle as he helps me out of the ruined clothes, careful around every cut and bruise. When I'm naked, he scoops me up and puts me down in the tub. "Now, what would you like to eat?"
I lean against the tub's wall and close my eyes, which are swimming with tears.
I try to remember the last time somebody took care of me like this and come up empty.
Of course, Pete would make me soup when I was sick, or bring me aspirin, but he wasn't a caretaker, and it showed in the impatience with which he completed every act.
That's when I decide: No more Pete. That chapter of my life is closed.
I open my eyes and look at Gabe. This is going to be a new life. "I really want a hamburger, fries, and ice cream," I request softly.
He smiles, that rare, warm smile that he seems to reserve solely for me. "Hamburger, fries, and ice cream it is."
While the water laps gently around me, he steps out to make the call.
I sink deeper into the warmth, letting the day finally slide off my skin.
When he returns, he kneels beside the tub and carefully washes my hair, his fingers gentle on my scalp.
I close my eyes again, and tears slip free for an entirely different reason.
This man.
This impossible, possessive, beautiful man just married me in secret, survived a bullet meant for his head, and is now washing my hair like it's the most important thing in the world.
When the bath is done, he wraps me in a thick towel, carries me back to bed, and helps me into one of his soft black t-shirts. The fabric smells like him. Safe. Home.
Balancing two trays of food, he slides in beside me.
"Eat," he orders. "You need to feed my kids."
I laugh. "You're so bossy." I take the first bite of hamburger. A deep moan escapes me. "Oh, this is good."
He stares at me with open hunger on his face.
"You need to eat too," I admonish when he keeps staring at me without moving to eat his food.
"I can't believe we're having twins," I say, just to bring him out of the fugue he seems to have slipped into. The mention of our kids brings him back.
He leans forward, and his lips brush my temple. "I can. You were always going to give me everything, Audra. I just had to wait for you to be ready."
"I love you." The words come easy now. "I'm terrified and overwhelmed and probably still in shock… but I love you. And I'm so glad it's you."
His eyes darken with emotion. He kisses me slowly, deeply, like he's sealing a promise.
"I love you too, wife. More than I know how to say. Finish eating, then get some sleep. Tomorrow, we start figuring out the rest."
After the trays are removed, I snuggle closer; his heartbeat is steady under my ear, his hand warm and protective over our babies.
For the first time in what feels like forever, the future doesn't feel like something I have to survive.
It feels like something I get to live. With him.
With them. With the wild, chaotic, beautiful life we're about to build.
And as sleep finally pulls me under, I let myself believe it.
We're going to be okay. We're going to be more than okay. We're going to be home.