Chapter Two Hundred And Twenty Two

Chapter Two Hundred And Twenty Two
Theo’s POV

Morning cut through the room in a thin line of light, landing first on her.

Camille slept against my chest, hair spread over my skin, fingers curled weakly in my shirt like she was afraid I might disappear if she let go. Yesterday’s dress was gone. Yesterday’s chaos was gone. But I could still hear the echo of gunshots if I let my mind wander.

But I didn’t. I focused on the weight of her. The warmth. The quiet.

She stirred, lashes fluttering. When her eyes opened, there was a second where she looked up at me like she didn’t know if this was real or another nightmare.

Then she breathed out. “You’re still here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

Her throat worked. “Miles is really gone.”

“Yes.” My hand slid gently through her hair. “He can’t touch you again. Not in this life.”

Silence settled between us, not heavy this time, just full. She shifted, propped herself on her elbow, studied my face like she was memorizing every line again.

“Do you regret it?” she asked quietly. “Any of it?”

“Regret what?” I asked. “Stopping him? Protecting you? Dragging the world to its knees to keep you alive?”

Her mouth twitched. “Everything that led us here.”

I thought of the first time I saw her. Broken, furious, unable to trust anyone. The curses. The betrayals. The blood on floors and hands. The way she still chose to stand.

“No,” I said. “If this is where it led… I don’t regret it.”

She held my gaze a little longer, then nodded like she’d been waiting for that answer.

“Theo?”

“Hmm?”

“Marry me today.”

I stilled. “Today?”

She nodded once. “Today. Not in front of the cameras. Not in a hall that smells like gunpowder. Just us. Family. People who truly love us. I want this story to end with us winning. Not with Miles’ shadow hanging over our lives.”

My chest tightened. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

She gave a small, tired smile. “I fought through fire, poison, curses, and a crazy ex who turned into a terrorist. I’m ready.”

I almost laughed. Instead, I pulled her closer and pressed my forehead to hers. “Then we’ll do it,” I said. “Today.”

“Small,” she whispered. “No press. No strangers. Just the people who matter.”

“Done.” I kissed her once, slow and sure. “You have my word, Camille Steele. Before the sun goes down, you’ll be my wife.”

“Good,” she whispered back. “Because I’m tired of waiting for happiness like it’s a luxury.”

We got out of bed together.

The house felt different that morning. Not lighter, not yet, but steady. Ethan and Kai had already doubled the perimeter, not because they expected another attack, but because they refused to be complacent. I gave orders out of habit, but there was no war brewing this time. Just a ceremony.

We chose the venue fast. Not a hall. Not a hotel. Not a palace ballroom.

The garden at the Steele estate.

The place that wasn’t part of my childhood, yet carried my mother’s memories and hopes. The place she once pictured me running through, even if life never gave us the chance.

Her grandfather agreed without hesitation. “The garden is hers,” he said. “As it always should have been.”

By midday, it was ready. Simple seating. White chairs. A small arch of flowers. No stage. No cameras. No press. Just a narrow aisle laid over the grass and a clear blue sky above us like a blessing.

Family. A handful of trusted friends. That was all.

Ethan stood to my left. Kai to my right. Lena fussed over some last-minute detail near the house, her dress simple but elegant. Camille’s grandfather sat in the front row, back straight, eyes bright with emotion he didn’t bother to hide.

I adjusted my cuffs, more nervous than I had been yesterday with hundreds of people in the room.

“Breathe,” Ethan muttered under his breath.

“I am breathing,” I said.

“Try doing it like a human this time,” he replied.

I sent him a look. He smirked, just a little. It helped.

The officiant took his place. The small crowd quieted. Birds moved through the trees. Somewhere behind the house, music started, soft piano, just loud enough for us to hear.

I felt her before I saw her.

My wolf went still. Then the guests stood.

I turned.

Camille stepped into the garden.

There was no long veil this time, no heavy crown, no attempt to impress the world. Her dress was still white, still beautiful, but simpler, soft satin that hugged her gently and moved with her. Her hair was pinned back with small pearls. Lena had fastened the moonstone necklace around her neck again.

She walked slowly.

Not because she was afraid, but because she was choosing every step.

Her eyes stayed on me the whole way. No glancing at the crowd. No looking for danger in the corners. She knew it was there already, out in the world. But right now, here, she knew we had it handled.

This wasn’t the walk of a woman being given away. This was the walk of a queen claiming her throne with the man she chose.

My throat felt tight.

When she reached her grandfather, he took her hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and whispered something I couldn’t hear. She smiled at him, and he squeezed her fingers before placing her hand in mine.

“Take care of her,” he said to me.

“Always,” I answered.

We faced each other. Her fingers trembled in mine for half a second, then steadied.

“You look beautiful,” I murmured.

“You look like you haven’t slept,” she replied.

“I didn’t,” I said. “I was too busy making sure no one ever touches you again.”

Her eyes softened. “I know.”

The officiant cleared his throat gently. We turned toward him, still holding hands.

“Before the vows, the couple will speak from the heart.”

Camille lifted her eyes to mine, soft and sure.
“Theo… you are my peace, my strength, and my second chance at life. I choose you. Always.”

My chest tightened as I spoke next.
“Camille… you are the woman I would walk through fire for. My future. My home. I choose you. In every lifetime.”

The officiant smiled. “Then, with these promises made, you may kiss your bride.”

I pulled her close and kissed her, steady, tender, forever.

We walked hand in hand toward the patio where the small reception waited. Soft music played from hidden speakers. The long wooden table was covered with simple white cloth, candles, and food made by the family cooks hours before.

No photographers.
No reporters.
No strangers.

Just family.
Just breathing.
Just peace.

Camille’s grandfather raised a glass first. His voice was soft but steady. “To my granddaughter,” he said. “The strongest Steele I’ve ever known… and the woman who turned every tragedy into strength. And to the man who stood beside her when the shadows grew long.”

Camille blinked quickly, her fingers gripping mine.

We clinked glasses, drank, laughed with the people who had earned the right to be here. Lena teased us. Ethan kept “accidentally” stepping in front of the cake like he was guarding it with his life. Kai stole the knife to mess with him. The twins from our extended family kept sneaking cupcakes.

It felt normal.
Almost too normal.
Like we were being given a moment to breathe after a season of holding our breath.

Camille leaned into me, her head resting lightly on my shoulder. “Theo?”

“Yes, love.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For not giving up on us. For not letting fear win.”

I brushed a kiss across her temple. “Thank you,” I murmured, “for choosing me when it wasn’t easy… when it wasn’t simple… when everything felt broken.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the evening settle over us. Candlelight made her look like something holy. Something carved from hope and survival.

People slowly drifted toward the dance area, a simple square of polished stone beneath hanging lights.

Camille tugged my hand gently. “Dance with me?”

“Always.”

I pulled her close, my hand on her waist, her cheek resting against my chest. The world went quiet again, but this time not from fear from belonging.

Her fingers tightened around mine. “We did it, Theo,” she whispered. “We finally reached the life we kept fighting for.”

“Yes,” I said. “And no one will take it from us again.”

The song ended, replaced by laughter and clinking glasses. But Camille stayed in my arms, not pulling away.

She looked up at me, eyes shining. “So… what now?”

“Now?” I smiled. “Now we live. We build something that lasts. We breathe without fear.”

“And after that?”

I kissed her. Slow. Deep. Certain.

“After that,” I whispered against her lips, “we write the rest of our story. Together.”