She glances up, eyes gleaming. “They should.”
Someone tries to draw my attention away—a question about alliances, a deal to be struck in the shadows—but I ignore them, eyes fixed on her. My world narrows to the press of her fingers in mine, the brush of her shoulder as we stand side by side. I realize, with a clarity that cuts deeper than any wound: I would set this city on fire before I let her slip away.
The priest approaches, voice lowered. “There are threats, Mr. Sharov. I suggest you move quickly.”
I nod. “Let them come. They’ll find nothing but ash.”
As the crowd filters out, I pull Sera close, lips brushing her ear. “You’re mine now. The whole city knows it.”
She laughs, turning into my chest. “You’re such a brute, Miron, but I suppose I married you for it.”
I kiss her again, fierce and lingering. Around us, the Bratva watch in silence. Some with envy. Some with hatred. All with respect.
Tonight, the city is ours. The future uncertain, the danger real, but none of it matters. I have her. I have won.
For as long as she stands at my side, nothing will ever make me yield. Not the Bratva. Not my enemies. Not even fate.
Hand in hand, we leave the altar behind, stepping into a world we have claimed for ourselves. The promise of war and love and power hangs between us, unbreakable.
Whatever comes, we face it together. That is the only vow that matters.
***
Later, we leave the altar as one. My hand never leaves Sera’s, fingers twined tightly, the ring a silent promise between us. The last of the guests filter out, a few lingering glances cast our way—some respectful, some bitter, all wary.
Outside, the street is lined with black cars and watchful men. Pavel approaches, murmuring, “The perimeter’s secure, Boss. No movement we didn’t expect.”
Sera arches a brow at him. “Always so formal, Pavel. Aren’t you going to wish us luck?”
He grins, bowing his head with exaggerated solemnity. “Luck would be wasted on you, Mrs. Sharov. You make your own.”
I squeeze her hand, leading her toward the waiting car. “Get in, little raven.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s no fear in her movements—only that fierce confidence she wears like armor. “Already giving orders, Miron? The ink isn’t even dry.”
I pull her close before she can climb in, murmuring against her hair, “Get used to it, Wife.”
She laughs softly, low and dangerous. “We’ll see who does the taming.”
Pavel opens the car door, smirking. “May God help the city.”
As the door shuts behind us and the convoy pulls away, Sera settles into my side, fingers drumming against my thigh. I lean over, catching her gaze, letting her see how serious I am.
The city rolls by, shadows and light flickering over our joined hands. For the first time, I let myself believe: together, we’re unstoppable.
Epilogue - Seraphina
A year ago, I stood in black lace and watched Miron slide his mother’s ring onto my finger, my hands trembling so badly I nearly dropped it.
The city still talks—my name tied to his in every whispered rumor, in every wide-eyed story passed in clubs and back rooms.
Sometimes the memory comes back to me in flashes: the cold bite of metal, the hush in the church, the way he never looked away from me even as the Bratva watched. I thought then that I was surrendering, that I was stepping into a cage.
Now, standing on the balcony, the city lights stitched across the dark like jewels, I realize I was wrong. This isn’t just a prison. It’s a kingdom. Mine as much as his.
The evening is humid, the air buzzing with the promise of another summer storm. I lean against the railing, tracing the skyline with my eyes, the familiar towers and neon now part of the landscape of my life. The estate sprawls behind me—gardens, marble halls, guards pacing their endless orbits. I used to count the exits.
Now I count the ways I could shape this world if I wanted to.
