Luca's POV
The wedding happens two weeks later.
Two weeks of Rian barely letting me out of his sight. Two weeks of domestic bliss that should be suffocating but somehow isn't. Two weeks of learning to navigate our bond, our relationship, our future.
Now I stand in front of a mirror, dressed in a tailored white suit, and try not to panic.
"You look incredible," Sara says, adjusting my collar. "The Alpha's going to lose it."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"Good losing it. The 'so in love I can barely function' kind."
Damon appears in the doorway. "Ready? Everyone's waiting."
"No. But let's do this anyway."
He grins. "That's the spirit."
The venue is stunning—outdoor ceremony in a garden, sunset lighting, hundreds of flowers. Pack members mixed with a few human guests I was allowed to invite.
And at the altar stands Rian.
He's in a black suit, perfectly tailored, looking devastating. When our eyes meet, the bond flares warm.
You're beautiful, his thought echoes through our connection.
So are you, I respond.
I walk down the aisle—no one giving me away because I'm not property. I'm choosing this myself.
When I reach Rian, he takes my hands. His smile is pure joy.
The officiant—a human, compromise for my sake—begins.
"We're gathered today to witness the union of Rian Blackwood and Luca Carter. They've prepared their own vows."
Rian goes first. "Luca, I know how we started. I know I forced this bond, took your choice, made you mine without permission." His voice is steady. "I can't change that. But I can promise you this: every day forward is your choice. Choose to stay, and I'll give you everything. Choose to leave—" His voice cracks. "—and I'll let you go. Because I love you. More than the bond. More than my own life. You're my everything."
Tears blur my vision.
My turn. "Rian, you're right. How we started was wrong. You took my freedom, my choice, my life." I squeeze his hands. "But somewhere between hating you and needing you, I fell in love with you. The real you. The broken, desperate, loving man underneath the Alpha." I smile through tears. "So I'm choosing you. Today and every day after. Not because the bond demands it. Because I want to."
His eyes shine.
"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss."
Rian pulls me close, kissing me deeply. The bond sings between us, and the pack howls celebration.
When we break apart, he whispers, "Thank you. For choosing me."
"Always," I whisper back.
The reception is beautiful—food, dancing, speeches. Rian doesn't leave my side, constantly touching me—hand on my back, arm around my waist, fingers linked with mine.
"Clingy," I tease.
"Married," he counters. "I'm allowed to be clingy now."
During our first dance, he holds me close, swaying gently.
"Happy?" he asks.
I think about it honestly. Two months ago, I was kidnapped, claimed, trapped. Now I'm married, bonded, and somehow...
"Yeah," I say, surprising myself. "I'm happy."
His smile is devastating. "Good. Because I plan to keep you happy for the rest of our lives."
"That's a big promise."
"I've got forever to fulfill it."
The bond hums agreement.
Maybe this is insane. Maybe I'll regret it someday. But right now, dancing with my husband under the stars, I feel something I haven't felt in years.
Complete.