Page 53 of Sacrifice

“Wow,” I breathe out, unable to keep the awe from my voice. “It’s beautiful.”

He nods, his eyes locked with mine, full of love and promises of forever. I reach for his hand next, the ring I have chose for him before picking out my dress glinting in my palm. It’s simpler than mine but no less significant—a band of dark metal that suits him so well. As I slip it onto his finger, he exhales slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.

“By the power vested in me by the state and as witnessed by those present here,” the officiant finally says, a smile in his voice, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may—”

But Gunnar’s lips are already on mine before the words can be fully formed, cutting off any formality. The kiss is deep, filled with all the emotion we’ve held back, all the pain we’ve endured, and all the love we share. It’s a promise, an end and a beginning.

“Mr. and Mrs. Finch,” the officiant finishes, but his words are drowned out by the cheers erupting around us.

The pack is crowding around us, clapping and howling their approval, their joy filling the space. I catch sight of Inari and Isla, standing in that first pew, their expressions ones of cautious happiness. Inari’s lips curl into a knowing smile while Isla’s stoicism breaks for a moment, allowing a genuine grin to shine through.

“Mrs. Finch,” Gunnar whispers against my lips, his breath mingling with mine. And in that whisper, I find everything I’ve ever wanted: a home, a family, a future. Despite the darkness of our world, in this pocket of light, we are infinite.

And no matter what happens, no matter what comes our way…I belong to Gunnar.

Officially.

Forever.

Chapter twenty-three

Rook

I’m watching the girl I love marry one of my best friends, and it feels…

…it feels right.

I stand there, the world a blur of cheers and howls, watching Gunnar and Aisling, their hands clasped tight. The officiant’s voice cuts through the din, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

It’s surreal, this moment, like we’re all knotted together in a bond that’s more than blood or pack—it’s soul deep.

Aisling beams up at Gunnar, and as his lips crash into hers, I feel something uncoil in my chest, a joy that’s foreign but welcome.

“Congrats,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her cheek as they break apart, and she’s grinning like the sun just rose for her alone.

“Thank you, Rook,” she whispers back, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears and something fierce. She turns then, hugging the rest of the pack, doling out kisses like blessings. When she wraps around Gunnar again, I sling my arm around her shoulder, a protective gesture that feels as natural as breathing.

Nero sidles up, his grin all shark and no innocence. “Dinner on me? To celebrate?”

But Aisling shakes her head, mischief sparking in her gaze. “Got a better idea,” she purrs, leaning into Gunnar’s ear. My keen ears don’t miss the hushed words, the hint of promise when she tells him about the secret she’s not hiding beneath her dress.

I know she’s not wearing anything underneath…I caught a glimpse of those perfect tits, a brief taste of that perfect pussy, before she walked down the aisle.

Gunnar’s eyes flash, a dark hunger there, and I know this night just took a turn into territory I’ve only skirted the edges of. Aisling looks over her shoulder, catching my eye, and damn if she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing to us.

We’re about to step out into the chill of the evening when the attendant, a mousy beta with eyes too big for her face, scurries over. “Excuse me, the dress,” she stammers, wringing her hands.

Nero waves her off, already reaching for his wallet, the leather worn and familiar in his grip. “Put it on my tab.” He tosses the words casually, like he’s talking about a round of drinks rather than couture that probably costs more than the attendant’s monthly wage.

The Bellanova isn’t far, and we walk in a loose pack, Aisling tucked snug between Gunnar’s arm and mine. My heart’s hammering a beat so damn loud I swear they can hear it. The night air is thick with the musk of alphas and the sweet tang of omega—all Aisling, all intoxicating.

I’ve had my share of omegas, betas…but never alphas. Gunnar? Nero? Luka and Oberon…It’s a different game. And group shit? That’s leagues away from where I’ve played. As we near the Bellanova’s glowing façade, doubt gnaws at me, a rat with sharp teeth. I’m no stranger to sex, to the tangle of bodies and the rush of release, but this…this is uncharted darkness, and I’m not sure I’m ready to dive in.

“Chill, Rook,” I mutter under my breath, but it feels like a lie because my palms are sweating and there’s a tremor in my knees that I can’t shake.

“Something on your mind?” Gunnar’s voice cuts through my internal panic, low and knowing.

I glance at him, at Aisling’s hand clasped in his, and force a smirk. “Just thinking about the after-party.”

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