Page 20 of Galen

Galen stood outside the door of the temporary dressing room, listening to the faint rustling inside. It was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, or so tradition said. But Galen had never cared much for tradition, not when it came to Bianca.

He had tied up every loose end—Mario was on a flight to the Bahamas to enjoy his retirement, Devlin had finally accepted Bianca, and the city was still theirs.

Everything was falling into place, except for the small detail of the assassin targeting him on his wedding day. Bianca didn’t need to know that, though. He knocked on the door, his knuckles rapping lightly against the wood.

“Come in,” came Bianca’s voice.

Galen turned the knob and stepped inside, the sight that greeted him stopping him in his tracks. Bianca stood before him, radiant in her wedding dress. The gown was a masterpiece of intricate lace and soft silk, hugging her curves in all the right places before cascading down to the floor in a sea of delicate fabric.

The bodice was fitted, accentuating her slender waist, and the neckline dipped just low enough to tease, without giving too much away. Her dark hair was swept up into a loose chignon, with a few tendrils framing her face, softening the look.

A veil hung loosely from her hair, trailing down her back, and her lips were painted a soft, romantic shade of pink.

Galen’s breath caught in his throat. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and in that moment, he knew he would do anything to keep her safe, to keep her his.

“Galen, it’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony,” she chided, her lips curving into a smile that made his heart race.

“Since when do I care about luck?” he replied, his voice low and rough with desire as he closed the distance between them.

His eyes roved over her, not hiding how much he wanted her. She was a vision, and he felt a primal need to claim her, to make her his in every way possible.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.“Are you nervous?”

Bianca’s smile faltered just a touch.“Just a little bit,” she admitted.“I hadn’t expected so many people to attend.”

Galen reached out, his hand brushing her cheek.“You just need to focus on me when you walk down the aisle. That’s all you need to do,” he told her.

She looked up at him, her eyes softening.“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

His lips brushed against hers, soft at first, but then the kiss deepened, turning into something more passionate, more urgent. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, and she responded with a soft moan that sent a jolt of desire straight through him.

Galen was tempted to pull her out of that dress right then and there, to forget the ceremony, the guests, everything, and just have her. But he forced himself to pull back, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Bianca’s eyes were half-lidded, her lips swollen from the kiss. She looked at him with a mix ofdesire and affection that made his chest tighten.

“Galen,” she whispered, her voice a little breathless.

He wondered if she wished Mario was there to walk her down the aisle, but then again, that was impossible. Most of the city already believed Mario Bruno was dead at his hands. Besides, Bianca’s mother was there, and that was all that mattered to her.

They parted ways, and Galen made his way to the church, anticipation coiling tightly in his chest. As he stood at the altar, waiting for her, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back to the kiss they’d just shared. The intensity of it, the way she had melted into him—it was a promise of what was to come, and he could hardly wait.

The music began to play, and Galen’s breath hitched as the doors opened. Bianca appeared at the entrance, her arm linked with her mother’s, and all eyes turned to her. But Galen couldn’t look at anyone but her.

She was a vision, an angel sent just for him, and as she walked toward him, he felt an overwhelming surge of emotion. She was his, and in just a few short minutes, they would be bound together forever.

Bianca’s gaze locked onto his as she walked down the aisle, and he could see the slight tremor in her hands, the way her breath caught in her throat. She was nervous, yes, but there was also something else—something that mirrored the hunger in his own heart.

When she finally reached him, her mother gently placed Bianca’s hand in his, and Galen felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him at the contact.

The ceremony proceeded, the priest’s voice a steady drone in the background, but Galen barely heard a word of it. His entire focus was on Bianca—on the way her eyes never left his, the way her lips parted slightly as she repeated her vows, the way her hand felt in his, warm and soft and so very real.

“I do,” she said, her voice steady and sure.

“I do,” he echoed, his voice low and rough with emotion.

The priest smiled, pronouncing them husband and wife, but before Galen could lean in for the kiss that would seal their vows, a sudden, sharp crack split the air.

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