Chapter 119

~MARLOWE~

The sky was a clear, endless blue above the vineyard we’d chosen, the soft scent of grapes and wild roses drifting across the rows. The day felt unreal, like something borrowed from a dream I had no right to keep. After everything—Stye, Lucien, the club, the betrayals—this was our day. Our beginning.

I stood at the edge of the garden aisle, veil light against my shoulders, the fabric whispering around me like a secret. My hands trembled just slightly, but not from fear. This was different. This was anticipation. Relief. Hope.

Behind me, Rook adjusted the cuff of his jacket, eyes sweeping the crowd like a sentinel. He’d been quiet all morning, but his presence was steady, grounding. The brother I’d never known growing up was here now, in my life, and for the first time, I felt like family meant something.

“You look like a ghost about to float away,” he muttered, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

I smirked through the blur of tears threatening to gather. “You don’t look so grounded yourself,” I teased softly.

He shrugged but offered his arm, the gesture uncharacteristically formal. “Ready?”

“Yes.” My voice surprised me—calm, sure, as though every battle behind me had led to this single step forward.

We began down the aisle slowly, the soft strum of guitar carrying over the murmurs of friends and family. Jess stood near the back with Tannin, the two of them side by side. Jess caught my eye briefly, tipping his chin in a subtle nod of respect. Tannin smiled, something knowing in her gaze as she whispered something to Rook that made his jaw tighten and a flicker of something—interest, maybe—pass between them.

I almost laughed. Not today, you two. But someday soon.

When my eyes found Torin, everything else melted. He stood waiting beneath a simple wooden arch draped in flowers, his suit dark, his tie undone just enough to be him—strong, unpretentious, lethal and tender all at once. The sight of him hit me like a wave: my anchor, my protector, my impossible, imperfect man.

The officiant’s words blurred at first, but Torin’s hand closing around mine snapped me back to the moment. His grip was warm, steady, as if he could pull every fractured piece of me into place with a single touch.

“You made it,” he whispered, eyes crinkling just slightly.

“So did you,” I whispered back, and my smile trembled at the edges.

We turned to face each other fully, the hush over the crowd deepening. Torin began his vows, his voice low but clear.

“I don’t have pretty words,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “But I have truth. You’ve been my compass, my fight, my reason. When the world tried to break you, you didn’t just survive—you burned brighter. And somehow, you let me stand in that fire with you. I promise to protect you, to stand with you, to love you—not just in safety but in chaos. Always.”

The tears I’d been holding back slipped free, warm trails down my cheeks. When it was my turn, I found my voice steady despite the storm inside.

“I didn’t believe in love the way people talk about it. I thought it was a trap, a way to control someone. But you…” My fingers tightened on his. “You showed me it’s a choice. Every day. And today, I choose you. Not as a shield. Not as a savior. But as my partner. My home. Always.”

A soft ripple moved through the guests, quiet sniffles and muted smiles. The officiant’s voice rose again, formal words weaving through the moment until at last they gave us permission to seal it.

Torin’s hands framed my face as he kissed me, slow and deliberate, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. The world roared into silence, only the rush of blood in my ears and the taste of him grounding me in the here and now. We weren’t running. We weren’t hiding. We were standing, together, in the open.

The applause when we broke apart startled me, but Torin only chuckled, pressing his forehead to mine. “We did it,” he murmured.

“We did,” I breathed, and for the first time in months, the word safe didn’t feel like a lie.

The reception spilled across the vineyard lawn in a haze of sunlight and clinking glasses. Rook moved through the crowd with that silent, watchful presence of his, but I caught him more than once sneaking glances at Tannin, who leaned against a table laughing at something Jess said. There was an ease in the way she carried herself now, no trace of the wary woman I’d first met behind the bar.

I joined Torin near the head table, his arm slipping naturally around my waist. “You see what I see?” I teased, tilting my head toward Rook and Tannin.

He smirked faintly. “They’re circling each other. Give it time.”

“They deserve it,” I murmured. “A chance.”

We clinked glasses quietly, letting the chatter of our friends roll over us. Jess came by with a bottle, topping off everyone’s drinks with a gruff congratulations. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he said, shaking Torin’s hand, then mine. “You two make it look… hell, I don’t know, easy.”

Torin chuckled. “Nothing about this was easy,” he said. “But worth it.”

Later, as dusk painted the vineyard in shades of violet and gold, I slipped away from the crowd for a moment, standing at the edge of the rows. The air was cool now, carrying the faint hum of cicadas. My dress brushed against the earth as I lifted my veil, inhaling deeply.

Footsteps approached, but I didn’t tense. I knew them.

“You okay?” Torin’s voice, softer now, his hand finding mine as he came to stand beside me.

“I’m… happy,” I admitted, the word strange but sweet on my tongue. “It feels weird. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

He squeezed my fingers gently. “No more shoes. Just us.”

I turned into him, resting my forehead against his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with the vineyard air. For a moment, the weight of every fight, every scar, every choice fell away. This wasn’t a battlefield. It was a home.

“You think Lucien’s really done?” I asked quietly.

Torin’s jaw flexed against my hair. “He’s a shadow now. We’ll be ready if he ever surfaces, but this—this life—he can’t take from us. We earned it.”

I closed my eyes, believing him. For tonight, that was enough.

When we returned to the reception, the lights strung above the tables glowed like a constellation. Rook was at the bar Jess had set up, handing Tannin a drink with a rare, crooked smile. She tilted her head at him, eyes bright, and for a moment the two of them seemed to exist in their own quiet orbit.

I caught Torin’s eye and grinned. “Their turn,” I murmured.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his arm tightening around my waist. “Ours too. A new turn.”

As the music swelled and our friends began to dance, Torin pulled me onto the makeshift floor, his palm warm at the small of my back. We moved together easily, not as fugitives, not as survivors, but as something else entirely—husband and wife, lovers, partners, a pair who had burned through the dark and found their way into the light.