Page 128 of Vendetta Vows

I straighten my spine and lift my chin. These people may be killers and criminals, but so is the man I'm about to marry. The difference is, my monster protects what's his.

And I am his. By choice.

Gregor releases me at the end of the aisle, and I walk the final steps alone. Ruslan's hands reach for mine, warm and solid against my trembling fingers. He gives them the lightest squeeze. Reassurance, promise, and determination all conveyed in that simple gesture.

The ghost of a smile touches his lips, private and genuine.

We turn to face the priest together, our hands still linked as the crowns are raised above our heads by two solemn-faced men. Against the weight of so many watchful eyes, Ruslan's presence beside me feels like a shield.

The priest gestures toward the ornate Bible on the lectern. I place my hand on the ancient leather binding, and Ruslan's larger hand covers mine. His touch radiates security.

The ceremony begins in flowing Russian, the priest's deep voice carrying across the garden. I don't understand the words, but I understand their weight.

This is happening. This is real.

All around us sit men who've ordered executions over breakfast, who've built empires on blood and suffering. Men who view women as commodities to be traded, used, and discarded.

And yet, with Ruslan's hand over mine, I feel strangely calm. Protected.

When he shifts slightly to stand closer to me, his shoulder brushing mine, I sense it's not just for show. There's possessiveness in the way he positions himself, like he's telling everyone present:She is under my protection now. Touch her, and you die.

In this world of predators, I've chosen the apex predator as my mate.

And somehow, in the midst of all this danger and uncertainty, that knowledge brings me comfort.

The priest finishes his recitation, and the crowns, heavy and ornate, are placed upon our heads.

The weight is immediate and startling, pressing down on me with unexpected force. It takes everything in me not to flinch, not to reach up and adjust it.

Ruslan wears his crown like he was born for it, the gold complementing his eyes. While I'm struggling not to buckle, he looks regal. Powerful.

The rings come next, carried on a small velvet pillow. I reach for the larger one meant for Ruslan's finger, but my hands are trembling so badly that the band nearly slips from my grasp. I fumble, catching it just before it falls.

My heart hammers against my ribs.Great job, Aurora. Drop the ring in front of every pakhan in California. Really selling this whole "I belong here" act.

Ruslan's lips quirk into that small, private smile I'm coming to treasure.

"Careful now,zarechka," he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear.

Despite everything from the watching crowd, the terrifying stakes, and the weight of the crown threatening to give me a migraine, I find myself smiling back.

What am I doing? Marrying a man I've known for weeks? Pledging my life to a criminal empire?

Yet when Ruslan takes my hand and slides his ring onto my finger, the metal cool against my skin, something settles inside me. His touch is gentle but sure, his eyes never leaving mine as he completes this ritual.

I repeat the gesture with significantly shakier hands, pushing the ring onto his tattooed finger. The bird with broken wings disappears beneath the gold band, a symbol of his past covered by his future.

You're his now. Protected and safe.

And together, you will keep his nieces safe too.

When our fingers intertwine, I feel that same electric current that's been there since he first helped me gather scattered script pages in that alley. It doesn't matter if this marriage started as a strategic move. The way he's looking at me now feels anything but strategic.

The priest says something in Russian, and even I can tell it means the end of the ceremony. His hands spread wide and gestures between us.

Ruslan turns to me, his eyes burning with an intensity that steals my breath. The crown shifts slightly as he moves, but he pays it no mind. His strong, tattooed hands that have touched me with such tenderness cup my face like I'm something precious.

And then his lips are on mine.

---