Emma steps beside me and touches my arm lightly. “You okay?”
I nod, then shake my head, then laugh because both are true. “I don’t know. I think so.”
“That’s fair.”
“I keep thinking about how fast everything happened.”
Her expression softens. “Fast doesn’t always mean wrong.”
“No,” I whisper. “It doesn’t.”
Because with Cobra, fast never felt like reckless. It felt like recognition. Like my life slammed into his and somehow both of us understood before we had language for it. Still, nerves twist through me. Not doubt. Never doubt. But the weight of it.Cobra is not a man who expects softness from life. He doesn’t ask for gifts. He doesn’t assume joy is meant for him. Even after everything, even after love, there are still moments when I see the boy he used to be buried behind his eyes. The one who learned not to want because wanting gave the world a target.
Today, I get to give him something he can’t dismiss. Something permanent. Something chosen. Something no monster can twist into ownership because this is mine to give. Myself. My future. My vows.
Mac claps her hands once, making half the room jump. “Okay. Dresses. Now. We’re on a schedule.”
Kya groans. “You’re terrifying.”
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“I took it as one.”
The room bursts into movement. Garment bags unzip. Shoes appear. Makeup gets touched up. Someone swears because a clasp won’t cooperate. Someone else yells for pins. Bella nearly trips over a bag and then blames Blaze even though he’s outside and nowhere near her. It’s chaos.
Beautiful chaos.
I slip into one of the side rooms with Emma and Brooke helping me. My dress is simple compared to some of the others. Soft white, fitted through the waist, flowing enough that I can breathe. No heavy sparkle. No dramatic train. Just me.
At least, the version of me I want to be today.
When Emma zips it, I stare at myself in the mirror. For a second, my throat tightens. Mirrors still do that sometimes. Not always. But sometimes.The auction room flashes before I can stop it. Bright lights. Cameras. My face painted into something that didn’t feel like mine. The collar at my throat. Men’s voices coming from nowhere and everywhere. Then Brooke steps into the reflection beside me. She doesn’t touch me right away. She just stands there.
Present.
“You’re here,” she says quietly.
I breathe in. Then out. I nod. “I’m here.”
Emma’s hand settles gently on my shoulder. “And you’re beautiful.”
The words don’t feel like the ones they said about me that night.Pretty thing. Lot seventeen. Inventory.This is different.Because Emma says it like she sees me.Not a body. Not a product.
Me.
My eyes burn. “Don’t make me cry before I get out there,” I whisper.
Brooke smiles. “Too late. We all cried once already. It’s basically required.”
That gets a laugh out of me, shaky but real. By the time we step back into the main room, all the women are ready. AndGod, they are stunning.
Mac looks like power wrapped in white lace. Kya looks softer than usual but still like she might curse someone out at the altar if necessary. Brooke is elegant, quiet and glowing. Shaina looks steady and fierce. Raven looks like a gothic dream Joker is absolutely not prepared to survive. Bella looks radiant and mischievous. Brynn looks nervous and luminous. Allison is grinning like she’s barely holding herself together. Ana wipes under one eye and pretends she isn’t emotional. Emma steps into place beside us, and for a moment, nobody jokes.
We just look at each other.All of us. Women who survived. Women who chose. Women who are about to walk outside and detonate the emotional stability of the most dangerous men in Alabama.
Then Raven says, “They’re going to lose their damn minds.”
