Page 7 of The Chief (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #3)

SHOUTING ERUPTED like gunfire behind her, loud, sudden, and sharp enough to make her flinch.

Voices overlapped in a rising storm of confusion and outrage, words spilling over each other in a chaotic blur.

The scrape of shoes against marble. A crash, metal clattering, maybe a flower stand tipping or a ceremonial vase toppling to the floor.

The church that had stood silent moments before now thundered with disbelief.

“What the hell is happening?” Katrina’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and indignant, slicing into the noise like a blade.

“You can’t do this!” That was Leif, furious now, stepping toward Cade. “This is not part of our agreement!”

“Cade!” Titus barked, furious. “This isn’t the time to play games.”

Elise couldn’t move. The air fractured around her—shouts, footsteps, panic bleeding into motion—but inside, she experienced nothing but stillness.

A sudden burst of noise, maybe a bench scuffed too hard, or heels slipping on stone, rattled somewhere nearby, sharp enough to spike her adrenaline.

But it all sounded muffled, like she’d been dropped beneath the surface of a frozen lake.

Cold. Still. Every heartbeat thudded like a countdown she didn’t understand.

Her body refused to move, caught between disbelief and impossibility.

She should’ve run. Should’ve denied everything. But the second Cade took her wrists, his grip hot, certain, and peeled her hands open, the ground shifted beneath her.

And in that breathless instant, she remembered the kiss.

The heat. The pull she hadn’t understood but that ran down into her bones.

The way he looked at her, as though he’d always known she was his, as though he saw everything she hid and still didn’t flinch.

It sent a shudder through her. It cracked something wild loose inside her, like he’d reached her soul and touched the part of her she tried to keep guarded.

Desire tangled with disbelief, fire with fear.

Her legs turned to water. Her pulse kicked. She was burning from the inside out.

The mark on her palm still flamed. Not gently. Not subtly. It blazed, matching his. Exposing her.

Oh God.

Cade’s body blocked the chaos. He stood between her and the others like a wall of muscle and certainty, broad shoulders squared, chin lifted, every inch of him a silent command. The tension rolling off him wasn’t anger. It was constraint. Intent. He wasn’t just shielding her. He was claiming her.

Elise blinked, her voice lost in the chaos.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single coherent word.

All she could do was stand there, his heat sinking into her skin, his fingers entwined with hers like he had no intention of letting go, the gravity of what this meant pressing down on her chest until she could barely breathe.

This wasn’t an option anymore. It was already happening.

“My choice,” Cade said clearly, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Right up until we say ‘I do.’ That was the clause, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t wait for the silence to stretch or the arguments to pile on.

He lifted his hand, palm up, revealing the soul mark still aglow, its edges pulsing faintly with heat and truth.

The symbol was unmistakable. A claim carved by something older than law, more binding than words.

Then, he reached for Elise’s hand and turned it to face the room, her matching mark burning in eerie tandem. Not coincidence. Not illusion. Proof.

A ripple moved through the crowd. A sharp intake of breath.

Whispers hissed like wind over glass. Even those who hadn’t seen it clearly leaned forward, eyes widening.

Someone gasped. Another murmured a stunned prayer.

Katrina blinked in disbelief, mouth slightly open.

Leanora’s hand shot out, grabbing hers. One of the older Severin aunts crossed herself and whispered, “It’s real. ”

The air shifted, not quieter, not louder, just heavier. As if the building itself recognized what had just been revealed.

Titus went still.

A pause. A breath.

Then, with a grunt that might’ve been approval, he stepped back.

Leif hovered, eyes narrowed, mouth tight.

But when he saw the brand—when he really saw it—his expression faltered. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue.

Cade didn’t wait for the pause to turn hostile. “We don’t have a license,” he said flatly. “Which means this ceremony isn’t legally binding. Yet.”

Titus exhaled sharply, then pulled out his phone. “Give me an hour. The three-day waiting period will be waived.”

Leif looked between them, still tense, but the brand on Elise’s hand radiated too steadily to deny. Slowly, he stepped back into place.

The room held its breath again.

Until Petra moved.

She moved forward, her heels echoing across the church floor, past the gaping bridesmaids and stunned guests, her expression unreadable. Not angry. Not betrayed. She moved like a woman watching the final scene of a play she’d already predicted.

She stopped beside Elise and leaned in. ”I’m relieved for myself,” she whispered, voice soft and steady. “But I’m sorry it’s you. Don’t mistake this for romance. He chose because he saw no other option—not because his heart was in it.”

Elise flinched, her breath catching in her throat. But Petra didn’t hesitate. She held out the bouquet, not as a gesture of surrender, but of transition. A quiet acknowledgment.

Elise stared at it, frozen.

“Take it,” Petra said softly. “They’re waiting.”

With shaking fingers, Elise accepted the flowers. Next, Petra draped her veil over Elise’s head like a shroud and gave a faint nod, before moving. Not back to the pews, but to Elise’s former place among the bridesmaids. One step in. One step out. Like they’d rehearsed it, though they never had.

The exchange went seamlessly, almost too seamlessly. Elise stood holding the bouquet, Petra’s perfume still clinging to the silk ribbon, her own breath coming shallow and unsteady. The world hadn’t moved, and yet everything seemed different.

She blinked once.

Then again.

And realized everyone was watching. Her stomach dropped, a sudden burden pressing into her. Heat crept up her neck as if each stare peeled another layer away. She clutched the bouquet tighter, wishing it could shield her, wishing she could vanish.

The shift was palpable, like the room had reframed her in an instant. She wasn’t just part of the scene anymore. Every gaze was fixed on her, every breath waiting for her next move.

She was now the bride.

The steps between her and Cade Dante stretched longer, somehow, as though the space itself understood what it demanded of her. A single breath. A single shift forward. And yet it was irreversible.

And he stood at the end of it.

Unshaken.

Unmoving.

Waiting for her. Only her.

She moved forward, knees threatening to buckle, lungs barely keeping up, every step leading her toward a future she never imagined. She reached him, stopped, and felt the heat of his hand as he laced their fingers together, confident, steady, like this had always been the plan.

A thousand thoughts spiraled in Elise’s head. But Cade’s grip secured her. Still warm. Still strong.

Still hers.

Elise’s nerves hummed like electric sparks under her skin.

Her body was unsteady, but it was his hand around hers—solid and warm—that kept her from splintering.

She didn’t trust her breath, didn’t trust her balance.

But in that moment, she trusted him to hold the line.

She looked up, half-expecting doubt or second thoughts.

But all she found was steel.

Unshaken. Unapologetic.

Along with heat.

And hunger.

He’d have done his duty with Petra.

But with Elise?

It wouldn’t be duty.

When he took her to bed, it would be sheer pleasure.

They waited for the marriage license. Elise stood beside Cade like she’d stepped into a dream she couldn’t wake from.

The murmurs around them faded, but her panic didn’t.

Her thoughts spun wild, breathless, searching for a way to undo what had just happened.

There had to be a loophole, an out, something.

She didn’t look at Cade. Couldn’t. If she did, she might see certainty in his eyes. Or worse, he might see something in hers. Fear. Doubt. The desperate urge to escape. And if he saw that, he’d never let her go.

Then his fingers touched her chin. Tipped it up.

“Stop,” he said quietly, firmly. “We’re going through with this. You know it. I know it. The brand decided. There’s no changing it.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

He held her gaze. “I won’t let you run.”

And there it was, calm, unwavering finality.

The license arrived minutes later, a suited man delivering it with breathless efficiency. Titus gave a nod, dismissed him with a flick of his hand, and gestured to the priest.

The ceremony began.

Elise barely heard it. Her mind floated above her body, a buzzing numbness in her ears.

The words blurred. The crowd disappeared.

All that remained was the solid power of Cade’s hand in hers, the searing presence of the soul mark.

And the terrifying realization that nothing in her life would ever be the same again.

THE BALLROOM for the reception was a blur of gold and crystal and too many eyes.

Elise stood at Cade’s side, her smile fixed in place, tight around the edges.

Not from happiness, but from obligation.

Because anything else might crack the illusion, and tonight was built on nothing but illusions.

The crowd surged in waves, offering hesitant congratulations, awkward toasts, and tense laughter.

Every table gleamed, every flower perfect, every movement choreographed within an inch of elegance.