"Stainlesssteel," he rumbles, his gray eyes pinning me to the door. "Itwon't break, and it won't corrode.Theink is archival.Whenyou sign that certificate, you aren't just filing a document.You’remarking yourself as mine for as long as the ink exists.It’spermanent,Mia.Justlike the wayI’mgoing to fill you tonight."
"Permanent,"Ifinish for him.
"Permanent," he agrees.Histhumb brushes my cheekbone, a touch so light it makes my knees weak. "Ineed you down there,Mia.Thevariables don't balance without you."
"I'mcoming,Elias.Ipromise."
Henods, his neck corded with tension.Thepanic in his eyes recedes, replaced by the steely resolve of theTreasurer. "Good.I'llbe the one at the end of the aisle.Trynot to trip on the grass.Icalculated the slope; it's three degrees."
"Getout of here,"Ilaugh, pushing him gently.
Hecatches my hand, kisses the palm, and then stalks down the hallway, barking an order into his headset about perimeter spacing.
Savannahsighs from behind me. "God, he is so far gone for you.It'sdisgusting.Ilove it."
Weskipped the church and the courthouse for the dirt and oil of theCompoundbackyard, the only place where theBrokenHalostruly feel safe.Thebrothers have transformed the space.Therusted scrap metal and spare bike parts have been cleared away, replaced by rows of white folding chairs that look stark against the ruggedPineValleylandscape.
Theair smells of pine needles and the sweet yeasty aroma of fresh bread wafting from the reception tent—Tiffanyoutdid herself with the catering.
OldJackis in the back row, wearing a tie that looks like it predates the internet, whispering loudly toFrankfrom the hardware store.
"Toldya,"Jackrasps. "Toldya the accountant would lock him down.Youowe me twenty bucks."
"Keepit down, you old buzzard,"Frankhisses back, though he’s grinning.
Iwalk down the aisle alone.Myparents are gone, andIdidn't want a stand-in.Thisis my walk.Mychoice.Imove past the rows of leather-clad bikers.Loganstands at the front, looking presidential and terrifying, withAustinandShaneflanking him like gargoyles.
ButIonly seeElias.
He’sstanding on a raised wooden platform, his hands clasped behind his back.He’svibrating with tension.AsIget closer,Isee his lips moving.He’scounting.He’scounting my steps.He’scounting the seconds.He’smanaging the chaos of his emotions the only way he knows how.
WhenIreach him, he stops counting.Hereaches out, his hand engulfing mine.Hisgrip is tight, anchoring me to the earth.
Loganclears his throat. "Weare gathered here to witness the union ofEliasGunnarandMiaCarlson."
Theceremony is short.Eliasthreatened to cut the mic if there was too much flowery poetry.Whenit comes time for the vows, the silence stretching across the mountain is absolute.
Eliastakes the steel ring—the mate to the one on my finger—and holds it up.Itcatches the sunlight, gleaming with a hard, industrial light.
"Idon't do speeches,"Eliassays, his voice carrying to the back row without a microphone. "Ideal in facts.Thefact is, my world was gray before you.Itwas cold.Itwas a series of equations that kept me alive but didn't give me a reason to live."
Heslides the ring onto my finger, the metal cool against my skin.
"Youare the chaosIdidn't knowIneeded," he continues, his voice cracking slightly. "Youare the only variableIcan't control, and the only oneInever want to eliminate.Youare my balance,Mia.Myhome.Mywife.Iwill protect you until the numbers stop running.Iwill kill for you.Iwill die for you.Butmostly,Iwill own you.I’mgoing to spend the rest of our lives burying my seed in you, filling you until you’re overflowing with me, and marking every inch of your skin as my territory.You’rethe only variableI’llever need, andI’mnever letting another man lay a finger on what’s mine."
Tearsprick my eyes, hot and fast.Itake his hand, my voice trembling.
"Elias.Youtaught me that safety isn't about avoiding risk or hiding behind numbers.It'sabout finding the one man strong enough to stand in the fire with me.Youtook a broken, terrified girl and built a fortress around her.Yougave me a family.Yougave me a home where there was only silence before.Ipromise to be your peace when the flashbacks hit, and your chaos when you need reminding that you’re alive.Ipromise to mess up your filing system, to use pink highlighters on your spreadsheets, and to love you fiercely enough to quiet the ghosts in your head.You'remy safety,Elias.You'remy heart, myTreasurer, and my home."
"Bythe power vested in me, asPresidentof this club,"Logansays, smiling, "Ipronounce you husband and wife.Youmay?—"
Eliasdoesn't wait.Thekiss is a branding, a hard press of lips that claims every inch of me and makes the brothers cheer and hoot.It’sa promise of what’s coming later, behind theheavy timber doors of our new cabin.
"Mine," he growls against my mouth.
"Yours,"Iwhisper back.
Thereception is a blur of noise and joy.Thesun dips belowGrizzlyPeak, casting long, purple shadows across the compound.Stringlights twinkle above the makeshift dance floor, and the smell of roasted pork and caramelized sugar fills the air.
