Page 51 of Sacrifice

His words wrap around me, steadying the tremble that threatened to seize control. It’s not the dress that matters—it never was. It’s the resolve to stand amidst the chaos of this tarnished world and still dare to hope, to dream.

Before I can respond, Rook’s lips press softly against mine, a tender affirmation of his words, and for a moment, the world falls away. It’s just us, in this bubble where nothing else exists but the promise of what we are to each other.

As our kiss lingers, a warm, large hand rests on my shoulder, grounding me back to reality. I turn, pulling away from Rook’s soft lips, to find Oberon standing there. His presence is like a bastion of strength; his dark hair is neatly combed back, and his beard trimmed to perfection. The usual ruggedness he carries is polished into a refined version of the man who never leaves my side, especially not when things get rough.

“Looking sharp, Oberon,” I remark, a genuine smile tugging at my lips.

“Only the best for tonight,” he replies, his voice deep and steady.

“Are you…okay with this?” I ask tentatively. It’s one thing to share a pack bond—it’s another to stand together as I pledge myself to Gunnar in a way society deems singular and absolute.

“Of course, Aisling.” Oberon meets my gaze, his deep golden-brown eyes crinkling in reassurance. “This changes nothing about us.”

“Good,” I sigh, relief washing over me. “Because you’re next, right?”

He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates through me. “That’s right. And I’m thinking the next one will be a destination event. Just the pack, sun, and sand.”

I laugh, shaking my head at the thought. “A sunny beach wedding? Really, Oberon?”

“Really,” he affirms with a grin. “Why not? We deserve some peace after all the storms we’ve weathered.”

“Can’t argue with that,” I admit, warmth blossoming in my chest.

This is my pack—imperfect, chaotic, but mine. And in this moment, under the dim lights of the chapel, with the two men I trust most in the world by my side, I feel a sense of belonging that no dystopian nightmare can ever take away.

The tinny notes of a synthesized wedding march filter through the air, and it’s just corny enough to make my heart skip. I glance at Rook to my left then to Oberon on my right; their expressions a mix of solemnity and warmth. We’re doing this—really doing this.

“Ready?” Rook whispers, his voice barely audible over the music.

“Let’s do it,” I reply, feeling a flutter in my stomach that isn’t entirely nerves. It’s excitement too, a thrill for the future despite the chaos of our world.

Oberon gives my arm a gentle squeeze, steadying me as the chapel attendant pulls open the door with a flourish. The sight before me steals my breath—the aisle stretches out like a path into another dimension.

And Gunnar, wearing a suit that’s a little too snug around the shoulders…his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Flanked by Luka and Nero, he looks every bit the Alpha I know him to be—strong, resolute, yet vulnerable in this moment.

A wave of something like awe washes over me. How did I end up here? The chapel’s beauty is a stark backdrop to the chaos that has become our lives. And yet, amidst it all, there stands my pack—the most incredible group of misfits, bound together by choice rather than chance.

“Ready?” Rook whispers as we take those final steps toward the future.

“More than ever,” I whisper back, my voice steady even though my knees feel like they might give out.

We step forward, and the chapel unfolds around us—a beauty born from necessity and quick decisions. Twinkle lights dangle from the ceiling, their soft glow illuminating the space and lending it an ethereal quality. Silver star lanterns are scattered throughout, catching the light and casting delicate shadows.

It’s like walking through a nebula crafted by human hands, a slice of the universe brought down to embrace us. Splashes of purple and midnight blue paint the walls and ceiling, a galaxy far from the reach of any regime or societal constraint.

Here, we’re just people taking steps towards a promise, towards a unity of our own making.

“Never thought I’d get married under the stars,” I murmur, my voice tinged with awe.

“Seems fitting for the Stargazer,” Oberon replies, his tone light but sincere.

“Best last-minute decor I’ve ever seen,” Rook adds, a smile evident in his voice.

I can’t help but agree. This haphazardly beautiful chapel is more than I could have hoped for—a place where I can stand and declare my love, surrounded by those who matter most. It’s not about luxury or grandeur; it’s about the bond we share, unbreakable and true, even in a world that tries its hardest to tear us apart.

And as we move forward, flanked by makeshift constellations and bathed in the soft luminescence of countless tiny lights, I am grounded by the strength at my sides. This walk down the aisle isn’t just a formality—it’s a testament to our survival, to our refusal to let the darkness win.

“Look at you, Aisling Faye,” Rook whispers, “walking straight into your own fairy tale.”

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