31. Luca
Luca
The first time I married her, it was for business and survival.
This time it’s for love.
It’s been a week since Gilly’s idea of re-marriage and I stand at the altar, my hands clasped in front of me, the weight of the past pressing against my shoulders—but not in the way it used to. It’s not heavy anymore. It’s not suffocating.
It just… exists. A reminder of everything it took to get here.
The courtyard is bathed in warm, golden light.
A soft breeze moves through the wooden arch adorned with ivory roses, shifting the delicate petals.
The scent of fresh flowers lingers in the air, mixing with the fading heat of the sun.
Everything is quiet except for the rhythmic pulse of my heartbeat, steady, sure.
For the first time, there is peace.
No enemies waiting in the shadows. No weight of vengeance pressing down on my spine.
There is only this moment.
Only her.
Matteo stands at my side, his suit pressed, his posture relaxed—but I know him too well.
I catch the way his fingers twitch slightly at his sides, like he’s reminding himself there’s nothing to fight anymore.
His face is less pale than it was weeks ago, his body stronger, but the bruises haven’t completely faded. Neither have mine.
Neither have Gilly’s.
But this? This is healing.
I glance toward Claire, Gilly’s paralegal, who is standing near the entrance, fussing over something on Gilly’s dress. I can’t see her yet, but I feel her. The pull of her presence.
My stomach tightens.
Rafa shifts beside Claire, holding the small, velvet box in his tiny hands. He looks between me and the archway, his eyes wide, his little lips pressed together in concentration. He’s taking this job seriously.
Matteo leans down slightly. “Nervous, kid?”
Rafa shakes his head firmly. “Nope.” Then he frowns. “Are you?”
Matteo snorts. “Not even a little.”
I huff out a breath, amused. “Liar.”
Matteo smirks but doesn’t argue. He knows me too well. He knows I can feel it—the anticipation vibrating beneath my skin, the electric hum of something permanent settling into my bones.
This is different.
This is real.
A hush falls over the small gathering. My breath catches in my throat as Claire steps back, revealing her.
Gilly.
And suddenly, the world stops moving.
I forget how to breathe. How to think.
She stands at the end of the aisle, her arm linked with Nico’s, who offered to walk her down since she has no father. Her dress is simple, elegant—soft ivory satin that hugs her curves and flows around her ankles. Her dark hair is pinned back, strands curling around her face, and she’s glowing.
Not because of the dress. Not because of the ceremony.
Because she chose this.
She chose me.
Our eyes lock, and for a second, I swear my heart stops.
She smiles.
And something inside me shatters.
I clench my fists at my sides, forcing myself to stay still, to not move, to not run to her the way my instincts scream at me to.
Nico murmurs something to her, something I don’t hear, because all I can focus on is the way her eyes shine, the way she holds her head high, the way every step she takes is confident, steady, certain.
This time, there are no chains.
This time, there is no contract binding us together.
This time, she’s walking toward me, not because she has to.
But because she wants to.
Matteo exhales beside me, a quiet sound, but I hear the weight in it.
I glance at him.
His eyes are locked on Gilly, something unreadable in them. Then he shifts, barely, and when he speaks, his voice is low, rough.
“She really loves you, doesn’t she?”
It’s not a question.
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “Yeah. She does.”
Matteo nods once, slow, thoughtful. “Then don’t screw it up.”
A huff of laughter escapes me, and some of the pressure in my chest eases.
“Not planning to,” I mutter.
And then Gilly is there.
Nico stops at the steps of the altar, turning toward her. There’s something in his expression—respect, pride, something softer than I’m used to seeing from him. He murmurs something low, presses a kiss to her forehead, then steps back.
She steps forward.
Toward me.
My throat tightens.
Gilly doesn’t look away as she reaches for my hands, sliding hers into mine without hesitation.
Warm. Steady. Certain.
And in that moment, I know—I could burn down the whole world, and I’d still never deserve her.
But she chose me anyway.
The priest clears his throat, smiling. “Shall we begin?”
I nod once, never taking my eyes off her.
She smiles, and the tightness in my chest finally eases.
Yeah.
Let’s begin.
Gilly’s hands are warm in mine. Steady. Certain.
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until she squeezes my fingers, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.
The touch is small, barely anything, but it grounds me.
It reminds me that this is real. That she’s standing in front of me, willingly, with no enemy threats looming over us, no blood staining our hands.
She chose me.
And I will spend the rest of my life proving she made the right choice.
The priest smiles, his voice calm and steady as he speaks. “We gather here today, not to bind two souls together, but to recognize what already exists between them.”
Gilly’s lips twitch. Her eyes shine with something unreadable—something deep. I know what she’s thinking.
The first time we did this, there were no vows that mattered.
No love.
No meaning.
But this time, there’s everything.
I hear a tiny shuffle behind us. Rafa fidgets in his spot next to Claire, his little hands wrapped around the velvet ring box. Matteo nudges him slightly, murmuring something under his breath that makes him still, his back straightening like he’s just remembered how important his job is.
I exhale, a breath of something close to a laugh.
I never thought I’d have this.
Never thought I’d get to stand here with my son, my brother, my wife—not because we survived another war, but because we finally get to live.
The priest continues, but I barely hear him. I only see Gilly.
The way her chest rises and falls, slow and even. The way she looks at me like she’s already made her vows in her heart.
Then it’s time.
The priest nods toward me. “Luca, if you have words to say, now is the time.”
A slow, steady breath fills my lungs.
Gilly’s fingers tighten around mine.
I never wrote anything down. Didn’t practice a speech. Didn’t prepare.
Because this—this is the one thing in my life that has never needed planning.
I lift our joined hands between us, brushing my thumb over the back of hers.
“The first time I married you,” I start, my voice low, rough, “I didn’t deserve you.”
Her breath catches slightly, but she doesn’t look away.
“I didn’t know what love was. I didn’t know how to give it. I didn’t even know if I wanted it.” I pause, swallowing hard. “But you… you never let me go. Even when I gave you every reason to.”
Her eyes glisten, and I see the memories flicker through them—the fights, the battles, the heartbreak.
I shake my head slightly. “I spent my life chasing a war that never gave me anything back. And then, without even trying, you gave me everything.”
She exhales softly, her lips parting.
“You gave me a family,” I murmur. “You gave me a reason to come home. You gave me something worth fighting for.”
A single tear slips down her cheek. I reach up and catch it with my thumb, my chest tightening.
“This time, I promise you everything,” I whisper. “Not because I have to. Not because I need to. But because I want to.”
Her fingers tremble slightly as she pulls in a shaky breath.
Then, the priest turns to her. “Gilly?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. She doesn’t break eye contact. Doesn’t look away for even a second.
“The first time I married you,” she whispers, “I didn’t know if I’d survive you.”
A sharp pang hits my chest.
She keeps going, her voice steadier now. “But I did. And then, slowly, I realized—I didn’t want to just survive you.” Her lips part, her voice softer. “I wanted to love you.”
I can’t breathe.
“I wanted to know every piece of you,” she says, her fingers curling around mine. “Even the parts that scared me. Even the parts you tried to hide. And I do, Luca.” She shakes her head slightly. “I know every part of you, and I still choose you. Every time.”
A knot forms in my throat.
“I don’t need you to be perfect,” she whispers. “I just need you to be mine.”
I don’t realize I’m gripping her hand too tightly until she squeezes back, her pulse hammering beneath my fingers.
The priest smiles. “Then let’s seal this with the rings.”
Rafa straightens, his little hands fumbling as he carefully opens the box.
Matteo watches him closely, ready to step in if needed, but Rafa holds steady, his tiny fingers wrapping around the rings. He steps forward, lifting them toward me, his face serious, his eyes locked on mine.
I kneel in front of him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before taking the rings.
“Thank you, buddy.” My voice is rougher than I expect.
Rafa beams.
I take Gilly’s hand, sliding the ring onto her finger.
Gilly does the same, her lips pressed together, her eyes glistening as she pushes the ring onto my finger.
The metal is warm from her skin.
Permanent.
The priest nods. “Luca, Gilly—by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you—”
I don’t let him finish.
I cup Gilly’s face, pulling her in, crashing my lips against hers.
A low hum vibrates in my chest, something raw, something final, something that feels like home.
She melts against me instantly, her hands gripping my jacket as I tilt my head, deepening the kiss.
The past doesn’t exist. The war is nothing but ash.
There is only this moment.
Only her.
Only us.
The world erupts in soft laughter and quiet cheers, but I barely hear them.
Because when I finally pull back, pressing my forehead to hers, I murmur the words that have never been truer.
“Till death do us part, little hellcat.”
Gilly exhales softly, her forehead still pressed against mine. My hands stay on her face, my thumbs brushing against the curve of her cheekbones as I hold her steady, as I hold her close.