Page 31 of Until Death or Defeat

I can protect her from almost everything, but I can’t protect her from me.

Not for long, anyway.

I take a breath as I step back in place, and we’re standing across from each other. Our eyes finally meet properly, and I can tell her head is swirling with thoughts. The priest instructs us to hold hands, so I put both of mine out to hold her soft hands in mine.

I squeeze them when I see her looking away, getting in her own head. The panic is evident on her face, and I know she didn’t have much time to accept this. She’s marrying the last man she ever wanted to marry, and she’s feeling hundreds of eyes on her as she does it.

And I’m forced to show to hundreds of mafia and bratva related affiliates that I’m marrying a woman; a weakness. The woman I hate the most, yet the one woman who exists that I can’t fucking let anything happen to.

The priest’s boring introduction and speech almost kill me, and I can see on her face that this delay in getting it over with is slowly eating her alive.

I squeeze her hands again to get her focus back, and we just look at each other.

Her eyes look down to the blue napkin folded in my suit pocket, and I can tell by her facial expression she wasn’t expecting it. She looks back into my eyes, and I feel as though she’s at least slightly calmed herself.

It feels like it’s only us there at that moment; and the cumulation of the years we’ve known each other are just dancing in my head.

I’ve seen her grow, seen her evolve from a docile, cute girl to a brilliant temptress.

I’ve seen her rock bottoms, and I’ve seen her get through all of them on her own.

I don’t think I’ve met someone as strong as her, but I still can’t let it delude me into thinking she’s strong enough.

“Now, the couple will say their vows,” the priest says,turning to Giselle. She holds my ring, as she takes a breath and closes her eyes for a moment before looking at me again. The priest begins the script, and she repeats.

“I, Giselle, take you Artem, to be my lawful husband,” she says, her eyes darting to the priest as he continues,

“To have and to hold,”

“To have and to hold,”

“For richer or for poorer,”

“For richer or for poorer,”

“In sickness and in health,”

“In sickness and in health,”

“Until death do you part,”

“Until—” she starts to repeat, but pauses. I think for a moment that she’s going to panic, but instead I see a mischievous smile spread across her face. “Until death, or defeat.”

A wide grin is plastered on my face as I hear her threat. No one can hear us but the priest and thank fucking God for that. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have shared a moment like this with her.

The moment that makes the memories of our first vow flood back. When, nine years ago, I threatened her on that rooftop and tried to wipe that same resolve off her face, but her determined eyes sliced through my soul.

Thisis my Giselle.

The priest’s face is horrified as she sticks the ring on my finger, pushing hard into the web as I clench my jaw at her rough gesture, but I can’t help but smile. He has no idea how to handle this, and he’s flustered for a moment, wondering if he should continue, until he clears his throat and starts the script again for me.

“I, Artem, take you Giselle, to be my lawful wife,” I pull her wedding band from my pocket, raising it to the tip of her finger as the priest continues.

“To have andto hold,”

“To have and to hold,”

“For richer or for poorer,”