Chapter 265
Raven
The Pacific morning hit different when you were about to marry the world's most dangerous mercenary billionaire.
I stood in the bridal suite of Nash's clifftop estate, watching Scarlet inspect the nano-ceramic blade strapped to my thigh with the same clinical focus most bridesmaids reserved for fixing hair.
"Remember," she said, adjusting the weapon's angle beneath my mother's silk gown. "If Lazarus sends anyone, aim for the femoral artery. This fabric is a bitch to get blood out of."
"Jesus Christ, Scarlet." Maya's mascara was already running, and we hadn't even started the ceremony. "Can we have one day without discussing arterial spray patterns?"
"Sure." Scarlet straightened, examining her work with satisfaction. "Right after someone explains why half the guest list has kill counts in the triple digits."
She had a point. Through the window, I could see Ares Legion operatives positioned on every ridge, their tactical gear barely concealed beneath designer suits. A submarine—a goddamn submarine—patrolled the coastline. Nash had turned our wedding into a fortress.
And somehow, that made me love him more.
"You look perfect," Maya whispered, dabbing at her eyes again. "Like... scary perfect. The kind of perfect that makes me want to cry and learn self-defense."
I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. The silver silk hugged curves I'd earned through years of combat, flowing into a skirt designed for both elegance and mobility. My mother had made this dress for a daughter she'd never see grow up. My father—my actual father—had kept it for twenty-one years, waiting for a ghost to come home.
The door opened. Ahab stood there in full Navy dress whites, every medal earned through blood and sacrifice gleaming on his chest. His eyes went bright, then wet, then bright again as he fought for composure.
"Valerie." His voice cracked on my name—my real name. "Your mother would have lost her damn mind."
I crossed to him, took his offered arm. "You think she'd approve?"
"Of Nash?" He laughed, rough and genuine. "Hell no. But she'd recognize a man who'd burn down the world for you. That's all she ever wanted—someone who'd love you as fiercely as we did."
As we did. Present tense. Because she was here, somehow, in this dress and this moment and the way Ahab's hand trembled slightly on mine.
"Ready to give me away?" I asked.
His grip tightened. "Not a chance. I just got you back. But I'll lend you to that psychopath for a few decades."
---
The ceremony site was a study in contrasts that would've been hilarious if it wasn't so perfectly us.
Left side: Westside Prep students in their slightly-too-formal department store suits. Sarah and David clutching each other's hands, tears already streaming down Sarah's face. Cole looking uncomfortable in anything without an engine, but his proud grin said everything. Leo and Maya sat in the front row. Katya and Ethan—my teammates from that insane week at Pantheon Division—had flown in from DC, looking equally thrilled and terrified to be here..
Right side: The kind of people most governments had active warrants for. Pentagon officials. Ares Legion commanders. International arms dealers who'd agreed to a temporary truce. Henry Kincaid gave me a subtle nod—the Phoenix Syndicate sent its regards. Somewhere in the crowd, I spotted three different intelligence agencies pretending they weren't monitoring each other.
And at the altar, beneath an arch of white roses that probably cost more than most people's cars, stood Nash Wilder.
He wore a midnight blue Tom Ford suit that looked painted on. His hair was slicked back, revealing the sharp angles of a face that had launched a thousand classified operations. But it was his eyes that got me—dark and intense and completely, utterly vulnerable.
This man had killed for me. Had almost died for me. Had proposed in the goddamn Pentagon.
And now he was looking at me like I was something holy.
Ahab and I processed down the aisle to a string quartet playing something classical that probably had significance I didn't care about. Every step brought us closer to Nash, whose hands clenched and unclenched at his sides—the only tell that he was anything less than perfectly composed.
"Who gives this woman?" the officiant asked.
Ahab's voice rang out clear. "Her father. Captain Ahab Harrison, United States Navy. And I'm not giving her to anyone—she's allowing him to join our family."
Nash's mouth twitched. "I'll take those terms."
Ahab pressed a kiss to my forehead, whispered "I love you, kid" in my ear, then stepped back. Nash took my hands in his, and I felt the slight tremor in his fingers.
"You're shaking," I murmured.
"Terrified," he admitted. "You could still run."
"In this dress? I'd trip in thirty feet."
"I'd catch you."
"I know."
The officiant cleared his throat. "The couple has prepared their own vows."
Nash went first, his voice low and steady. "Raven Martinez. Phantom. Valerie Harrison. Whatever name you go by, you're the only person who's ever made me want to be more than what I am. You've dragged me to high school football games, made me watch you do homework, and convinced me that maybe—maybe—there's more to life than tactical operations and revenge plots."
Scattered laughter from both sides of the aisle.
"I promise to love every version of you. The student. The assassin. The daughter. The absolute nightmare who terrifies foreign governments." His hands tightened on mine. "I'll help you with your calculus homework. I'll back your plays, no matter how insane. And if you die before me, I will storm hell itself to drag you back."