Page 47 of Sacrifice

He blinks rapidly, as if snapping out of a trance, then shakes his head…and my face falls. No…of course he isn’t okay with it. He still hasn’t fully forgiven me after I hurt him, after everything I’ve done…

“I get it,” I whisper. “If you don’t want to…I understand.”

But Gunnar’s head snaps to mine—then he faces me fully. His hands envelop me in a warmth that steadies my racing heart. “Marry you? Hell, Aisling, there’s nothing I want more,” he says, voice a rugged whisper that coaxes a smile onto my lips despite the madness of it all.

“Really?” The word tumbles out—a half-question, half-plea for certainty.

“Really.” He answers with a conviction that anchors me.

I let out a breath and allow his fingers to weave through mine, guiding me forward…and we cross the threshold of the Chapel of the Stars together.

Inside, the air is thick with the scent of possibilities. Twinkle lights drape from every corner, weaving gold, purple, and blue hues across the ceiling painted like a never-ending night sky. It’s a galaxy unto itself, a universe where only we exist. It’s not nearly as corny as I would have expected, given all the things I’ve heard about places like this.

At the front desk, Nero chats up the hostess, his charisma no doubt smoothing whatever path lies before us. He glances over his shoulder, catching our approach, and gestures grandly towards us. “These two lovebirds are here to tie the knot,” he says, a playful edge to his tone.

The hostess beams at us, her smile a beacon of commercial cheer. “Mr. Rossi here already made a reservation,” she chirps, and Gunnar’s scowl is almost audible.

“He could’ve told us,” he mutters under his breath, side-eyeing Nero with an intensity I know all too well.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Nero fires back, his grin as devilish as his reputation.

My heart’s doing this funny little dance, tripping over itself in a rhythm of surprise and excitement. It’s not every day you get whisked away to an impromptu wedding in a chapel that looks like it belongs in a fairytale.

“Actually…” The hostess’s voice wavers slightly as she glances at our pack, an eyebrow raised in question. “We do offer something special for larger groups—the Whole Pack-age.”

Rook snorts, Oberon covering his mouth. Even Luka laughs softly, shaking his head.

Gunnar opens his mouth, probably to agree, but Oberon steps in smoothly, his hand resting on Gunnar’s arm—a silent bid for attention. “We all agreed that tonight is about you two,” Oberon says, his voice low and steady. “This is your moment, officially. The rest of us…we can wait for our own times with Aisling.”

A lump forms in my throat, gratitude swelling alongside love. They’re giving us this—giving me this—and it feels more sacred than I’d ever imagined. I meet Gunnar’s gaze, searching for any hint of hesitation, any shadow of doubt.

“Do you want this?” he asks, words laden with the weight of our shared past and uncertain future.

“Yes.” My reply comes strong and sure. “Absolutely yes.”

Gunnar’s face softens into a rare, unguarded smile that cuts right through me. In that instant, the chaos of our world all fades into the background.

“Then let’s do this,” he says with a newfound resolve. “Let’s start our forever now.”

The hostess gestures to me with a smile that holds both excitement and a flicker of the same overwhelming sensation coursing through me. “Right this way, Aisling.”

An attendant appears from seemingly nowhere, his gaze fixed on Gunnar. “Sir, if you’ll follow me, we have a selection of rings for you to choose from.”

Gunnar nods, sending me a reassuring look before he’s whisked away. My heart races, but I manage to follow the hostess down a narrow hallway lined with framed pictures of couples under the glimmer of twinkle lights. The ambiance is an odd mix of romance and commercialism, yet it stirs something in my chest.

“Here,” the hostess says, opening a door to reveal a small dressing room dominated by a rack of dresses. “Take your time. I’ll just be outside getting your bouquet ready.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, but she’s already gone, the click of the closing door punctuating her departure.

Alone, my fingers tremble as they work the zipper of my dress, slipping it off to pool on the floor. I’m wearing a set of black lace underwear and a bra underneath—not exactly the best underthings for a wedding.

My gaze settles on the first gown—a vision of ethereal beauty made real. It’s a sleeveless number, the bodice embroidered with intricate silver threads that weave into patterns reminiscent of stars and constellations. The skirt cascades in layers of tulle that seem to capture the very essence of moonlight.

The second dress beckons, its off-the-shoulder design framing what would be a delicate display of collarbones and shoulders. Made of rich, deep blue velvet, it clings to imaginary curves before flaring out into a mermaid tail, the hem adorned with crystal beads that catch the light with every movement.

And then, there’s the third—a daring backless gown in a striking midnight black, a stark contrast against my pale skin. It’s simple yet bold, with a plunging neckline and a fitted silhouette that flares at the knees. On the back, a subtle embroidery of a phoenix rising from ashes speaks to a tale of rebirth and resilience.

Each dress is more stunning than the last, each crafted to make the wearer feel like the center of their own universe. And tonight, in this surreal chapel on the Oasis Strip, I am that center—unsteady, uncertain, but undeniably alive.

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