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Just the presence of two men who command a room by existing in it.
Viktor reaches me first, dressed in a sharply tailored black suit, dark eyes flicking over me in one smooth sweep.
He claps a firm hand on my shoulder — not hard, not soft, just enough to rattle me.
“Ready?”
I draw in a breath, slow and deliberate, exhaling just as carefully.
“As I’ll ever be.”
And it’s the truth.
No amount of prep or mental strategy will change what’s coming next. I’ll stand at that altar and take her hand.
I’ll do the one thing I never imagined for myself, which is to become a husband.
Even if — especially if — it’s only temporary.
Lev steps up beside Viktor, sharp-eyed, his mouth curled in the faintest smirk.
“Try not to scare her at the altar, Zee.”
I grunt softly, giving him a sidelong look. “She knows exactly what she’s walking into.”
Lev chuckles under his breath, shifting his weight slightly.
For a moment, the noise of the room fades — the murmured conversations, the shuffling footsteps, the undercurrent of expectation running through the air.
All I feel is this tight, steady circle we’ve built over years of loyalty and blood and unspoken understanding.
Viktor, Lev, me.
A family not born of blood, but forged in fire and iron will. They know and understand that I’m not the kind of man who needs pep talks or sentiment. But standing here, with their quiet presence beside me, I realize just how much their steadiness matters.
How much it’s holding me up, even now.
Viktor’s hand lingers on my shoulder for just a beat longer before he lets it drop.
“You’re doing the right thing,” he says quietly, voice pitched low so only the three of us can hear. “The bratva will be ten times stronger with this move.”
I nod once, the words settling heavy but true in my chest.
Lev claps me lightly on the back, flashing a faint grin.
“Look at it this way: at least you’re marrying someone gorgeous.”
I huff a low, reluctant laugh, shaking my head. “Asshole.”
He just grins wider.
The moment stretches, quiet and solid — a rare, grounding pause before the storm.
Then Viktor glances toward the far door, sharp eyes narrowing slightly.
“It’s time.”
I draw in one last breath, squaring my shoulders.