Page 102 of Rage

But it’s his eyes that captivate me.Even from this distance, I can see the love and awe shining in those piercing blue depths.His gaze never wavers from mine, an anchor in the sea of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

We’re about halfway down the aisle when my father suddenly pauses.I look up at him, confused, only to find him watching me with a mixture of love and concern.

“You know,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the music, “it’s not too late if you want to make a run for it.I’ve got the car keys in my pocket.”

For a moment, I’m too stunned to respond.Then a bubble of laughter escapes my lips, drawing curious glances from nearby guests.I squeeze my father’s arm, my eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.

“Daddy,” I murmur, my voice filled with affection and amusement, “the only place I’m running is straight into Mason’s arms.”

Relief and pride wash over my father’s face.He nods, patting my hand gently.“That’s my girl,” he says softly.

As we reach the altar, my father places my hand in Mason’s.The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down my spine.His eyes lock with mine, full of love and promises.

“You look beautiful,” Mason whispers, his voice rough with emotion.

I smile up at him, my heart overflowing.“You clean up pretty nice yourself,” I tease gently.

The officiant begins the ceremony, but I barely hear the words.I’m lost in Mason’s gaze, in the feel of his hands holding mine.When it comes time to say our vows, Mason’s voice rings out clear and strong.

“Meadow, from the moment I met you, I knew you were special.You brought light into my darkness, hope where I had none.I vow to love you, protect you, and cherish you for all our days.You are my heart, my home, my everything.I am yours, completely and forever.”

Tears slip down my cheeks as I speak my own vows, reaffirming my love and commitment.We exchange rings, simple gold bands that symbolize our eternal bond.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declares.“You may kiss the bride.”

Mason cups my face in his hands, drawing me close.His lips meet mine in a kiss full of tenderness and passion.The church erupts in cheers and applause, but I hear nothing but the beating of our hearts, perfectly in sync.

Hand in hand, we turn to face our loved ones as husband and wife, ready to begin our new life together.

* * *

One Year Later

The contractions tear through me, an unstoppable force that leaves me gasping.Sweat plasters my hair to my forehead as I bear down, every muscle in my body straining with the effort.The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, a searing, all-consuming agony that threatens to tear me apart.

“You’re doing great, Meadow.”Konrad’s calm voice cuts through the haze of pain.“I can see the head.One more big push and your baby will be here.”

I grip Mason’s hand tighter, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.His face is a mask of worry.I know how much it’s killing him to see me in pain, to be helpless in the face of my suffering.

“You’ve got this, darlin’,” Mason murmurs, his voice rough with emotion.“You’re the strongest woman I know.Just one more push and we’ll meet our little one.”

I nod, gathering the last reserves of my strength.As the next contraction builds, I push with everything I have.A guttural cry tears from my throat, primal and raw.

“That’s it!”Konrad encourages.“Keep pushing!”

The pressure builds to an unbearable crescendo.Just when I think I can’t take any more, there’s a sudden release.A tiny, indignant wail fills the room.

“It’s a girl!”Konrad announces, his voice thick with emotion.“You have a beautiful baby girl.”

Relief and joy wash over me in equal measure.I collapse back against the pillows, utterly spent.Mason presses fervent kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips.When I meet his gaze, I see tears shimmering in his eyes.

“You did it, baby,” he whispers in awe.“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Konrad places our daughter on my chest, her tiny body still slick with blood and vernix.She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, a perfect blend of Mason and me.Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes.A shock of dark hair crowning her head.And when she opens her eyes, I see they’re the same piercing blue as her father’s.

“Hello, little one,” I breathe, tracing a finger along her cheek.“We’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

Mason leans in, his large hand cradling our daughter’s head with infinite gentleness.The tenderness in his touch brings fresh tears to my eyes.This fierce, dangerous man brought to his knees by a tiny bundle weighing barely seven pounds.

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