Page 41 of Her Darkest Possession (Baryshev Bratva #2)

Sunlight warms my face as I sit in the barbershop while Svetlana and Amara fuss with my makeup and hair.

Marcus sits in the chair by the window that he finally accepted the money from Anatoly to fix. The sign on the door says closed, but that hasn't stopped the entire neighborhood from gathering outside.

My dress hangs on the entrance. Outside the window, I spot the tiny altar that Roma has set up earlier today.

It's nothing like the impromptu wedding by the sea the first time I wed Anatoly.

And if you were to ask any random person on the street about it, they would say that it looks almost far too ordinary for us.

But that's exactly what I want today.

Today, we choose each other again.

"You ready to walk me down that aisle?" I ask Marcus without opening my eyes.

Marcus responds with a soft chuckle from his spot by the window. But instead of a quick retort, he's been unusually quiet most of the morning.

"You getting all weepy on me, Marcus?" I ask him loudly.

"Hell no." He clears his throat roughly, but his voice is thick with emotions. "Just dozed off for a second. That's all."

I can't stop myself from giggling at his attempt at hiding his feelings.

"Hold still," Svetlana says, concentrating on my eyeliner. "Everything has to be perfect today."

"She's already perfect, Sveta," Amara teases from her chair, where she's been watching with obvious amusement.

"I'm just trying to not give Tolya any excuses to make fun of me later. You only get one shot at getting married to the man of your dreams." She pauses for a moment to put on the finishing touches. "Well, maybe sometimes you get two. There. Take a look, Indigo Malcolmovna."

Opening my eyes, I stare at my reflection in the barbershop mirror and catch sight of both Amara and Svetlana admiring me. The makeup is perfect, and not a single strand of hair is out of place.

The two of them really outdid themselves.

"Marcus?" I look over at him. "What do you think?"

Marcus takes his time looking me over, and even from here, I can see the tear hanging at the corner of his kind eyes.

"You look like you finally figured out what you want, Indie," he says thoughtfully. "That man is lucky to have you."

His honest words hit deeper than I expected. Gratitude settles in my chest for everything he's done. For everything everyone here has done.

"You're damn right he's lucky to have me." I grin at him, acting badass to hide the emotions threatening to send tears down my own face. "Took me a long time to get here, didn't it?"

"Sometimes, the best road is the hardest road to take." He straightens his tie and then draws the curtain to the window. "I'll give you some privacy while you change."

After Marcus walks through the front door, Amara helps me step into my dress. It's a simple slim white column of fabric with no embellishments with a wide boatneck. It flares out around my waist, and the billowy fabric of the skirt drape easily over my now round belly.

"Nervous?" she asks, working the zipper up my back with careful precision.

"The funny thing is, yeah." I catch her eyes in the mirror, seeing my own confidence reflected back. "Crazy, right? I mean, I've already married him once. But somehow, this feels way scarier than before."

"Not crazy at all." Amara says as she helps me pin the long veil to my head. "You went through a lot to enjoy this moment, Miels."

I smile at her. "I guess I have."

"Ready?" Amara asks, adjusting my veil one final time.

"Let's do this thing," I laugh. "For real this time."

The summer afternoon light greets me as I step out of the barbershop. Marcus adjusts his tie one more time before offering me his arm. His steady hand covers my trembling one with a familiar protective gentleness.

"Thanks for being here," I tell him. "And for walking me down the aisle."

His eyes get shiny again, but this time he doesn't try to hide it. "Someone's gotta do it, Indie. I'm honored that you chose me."

We step outside onto the sidewalk, and the simple ceremony setup takes my breath away. Scarlet roses and white baby's breath line the makeshift aisle between rows of chairs filled with people who I actually recognize and care about.

Amara takes her place by the altar with Svetlana and Roma.

When my eyes land on Anatoly, everything else fades away.

He's watching me with an expression that I'll never get tired of seeing. Wonder, awe, and an impossibly deep love that will never cease to exist for me and only me. He looks at me like I'm the most precious thing in his world.

And then, as if sensing my state of mind, Oliver gives me a kick in my belly and I feel the biggest smile of my life forming on my face as I start down the aisle towards my husband.

Each step brings me closer to the life I actually want. A world where no matter how many powerful men believed that they have the right to take whatever they want and give nothing in return, there will always be one man who will stand by my side and keep them all at bay.

Marcus stops at the front and places my hand in Anatoly's. A surge of heat and electricity courses through my body the moment our skin makes contact.

"Take care of her," Marcus tells him.

"Always," Anatoly promises, his fingers intertwining with mine.

This is our real beginning.

Anatoly's hands are warm around mine as the Roma begins the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Anatoly and Indigo in marriage.

" The gentle summer breeze carries his words across the street.

"This is a commitment not entered into lightly, but thoughtfully and seriously, with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities. "

The formality of the words, proper and official, wash over me. But I'm not listening to them. Not really.

Those words don't feel like us. They don't capture anything about who we really are or what we've been through together.

Oliver gives me another kick in my belly, as if reminding me that those words don't mean anything about what we'll be building together.

When all the formal words are finally said, Roma takes out the two rings from his pocket.

Roma hands Anatoly's ring to him first.

Anatoly takes my left hand in his, looking down at the spot where my old ring used to be.

"With this ring, I wed thee," Anatoly says, his voice deep and steady as he slides it onto my finger.

The weight of it feels different now. Not like chains or an obligation, but like an anchor—something that keeps me safe in the storm. "This time, because we choose each other."

My fingers tremble as Roma hands me Anatoly's ring. Instead of the signet ring with the double-headed eagle that he married me with in the first place, this one is a simple unadorned gold band.

I take a shaky breath before taking Anatoly's hand in mine.

"With this ring, I wed thee," I say, my voice catching with emotion.

The gold band slides easily onto his finger, gleaming in the summer sun.

"By the power vested in me,” Roma says. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Tolya, you may kiss your bride."

Anatoly cups my face with both hands. His eyes ask a silent question—as if even now, he wants to make sure I'm certain. As if I haven't already proved a hundred times over that I'll choose him time and time again.

I answer by rising on my tiptoes, my belly pressing against him, and meeting his lips.

THE END