Page 25 of The Enforcer (Damn! #2)

THEY STOOD in the living room of Titus’s mansion, the air sharp with silence and the scent of fresh-cut flowers.

No music. No vows rehearsed. Just a priest in a dark suit, standing before the fireplace like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Like he hadn’t been rushed in under armed escort.

Like he didn’t know the girl he was marrying off had nearly been killed hours ago.

Even more impressive Titus had managed to obtain a marriage license with the waiting period waived. Possibly legal.

Probably not, though no one would ever admit it.

The rest of the family lingered in the shadows, Titus, Jazz, Cade. No one spoke. No one moved.

Lily stood beside him.

Barefoot.

The silky fabric of her pale bronze gown clung to her curves before falling straight to the floor in an elegant, whisper-soft line. Her eyes sparked and glowed hazel under the accents of the soft gold eye shadow, and her lips looked plump with just a few splashes of rose gloss.

Tendrils of her hair, so carefully pinned at the nape of her neck, escaped in tiny curls, framing her cheeks. Not polished, not perfect, but impossibly beautiful. And she was marrying him.

Zane hadn’t planned this. Hadn’t wanted it. Marriage had never been in his blueprint, not like this, not with danger circling them like wolves. But now, standing next to her, hand wrapped around hers, he felt something shift in his chest.

Looking at her, barefoot, glowing, brave, possibly pregnant, he couldn’t imagine letting her go. Not to the people chasing her. Not to fate. Not to anyone. She wasn’t just a problem to solve anymore.

She was his.

The priest cleared his throat and began. “Marriage is a covenant,” he said, voice steady but warm. “A promise made not only before witnesses, but before God. It is not entered into lightly.”

Lily shifted beside him, barely. Not a step away.

Just a quiet breath, the kind that held back everything else.

He could feel it through the brush of her shoulder against his arm, the tremor in her fingers, the battle she waged in silence.

The courage in her wasn’t loud. It was bone-deep, forged through everything she’d endured to make it to this moment. Fire. Blood. Truth. And now, him.

Zane took her hand. Held it firm.

The priest continued. “It is in times of great uncertainty that marriage becomes more than ceremony. It becomes shelter. A vow not only to love, but to protect. To endure. To choose one another, even when the world does not.”

Lily’s eyes met his.

And something shifted.

She wasn’t afraid. Not of him. Not of this.

She stood tall, spine straight, her soul-mark glowing faintly on her palm.

The mark shimmered with that quiet, otherworldly light, pulsing in time with her breath, as if recognizing the vow before it was spoken.

She was tethered to him now, whether she understood it or not.

Whether she wanted it or not. And somehow, Zane knew, so was he.

And damn him, he wanted it.

“Do you, Zane Dante, take this woman to be your lawful wife?” the priest asked.

Zane didn’t hesitate. His voice came low and certain, a vow made with more than words. “I do.”

And he meant it. Every syllable. Every breath. He meant it in the way his fingers curled tighter around hers. In the way his Brand warmed beneath his skin. In the way his chest ached, not with fear, but with the terrifying clarity that he would burn the world down to keep her safe.

“And do you, Lily Mirabella, take this man to be your lawful husband?”

Her voice was soft, but it didn’t waver. “I do.”

And in those two words was a quiet kind of bravery. No ceremony could cloak it, no danger could diminish it. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t desperate. It was solid. Sure. Spoken with the strength of someone who’d been given every reason not to trust, and chose to anyway.

The priest nodded, satisfied. “Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” His voice dipped. “You may kiss the bride.”

Zane didn’t move right away.

He just looked at her.

At the curve of her mouth. The way her lashes lowered, then lifted again. The steel in her eyes, softened now by something else. Something warmer. Something like trust.

Then he lowered his head and kissed her.

His mouth met hers slowly, a brush of heat and breath and promise. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t show. It was discovery, soft and searching, the kind of kiss that said this wasn’t an ending, but a beginning.

His hand slid to her waist, securing her gently, fingertips skimming the silk of her dress.

She leaned in without hesitation, her lips parting for him like she already knew the shape of his hunger.

And something in Zane’s chest twisted, sharp and aching.

Her trust wasn’t just visible, it was tangible, pouring into him with every inch she gave.

It wrecked him more than any resistance ever could.

It was a prelude, sensuous and quiet. The kind of kiss that lingered long after the world moved on, because for Zane, the world had. There was no going back. No forgetting the way her lips met his like they already belonged there.

A promise, sealed in silence, that he would never let her fall again.

When he stepped back, her eyes were bright. No tears. Just clarity.

And something new.

Something that looked like hope.

THE WEDDING ended just after two, but the late lunch that followed stretched on for hours. The sunroom in Titus’s mansion was warm with afternoon light, too bright for the stillness in the air.

The food was elegant, simple fare arranged with care, but no one really ate. Conversation stumbled awkwardly through the silence. Jazz tried to keep it light, Cade didn’t bother, and Titus barely spoke at all.

Lily answered when asked, and smiled when expected. But her hands stayed wrapped around the stem of her wineglass the entire time, though the wine remained untouched. Zane sat beside her, watchful, quiet. He saw how still she was. How tight her shoulders stayed.

By the time they were escorted out the back of the mansion, leaving the dishes and remnants of lunch behind, dusk had begun to creep over the lawn.

A private pathway wound behind the estate toward a smaller house, hidden behind hedges and high walls.

It was beautiful, stone and wood, warm lights glowing behind glass, but Zane didn’t care about the aesthetics.

What mattered was the security: cameras, reinforced locks, a perimeter sealed tight, guards.

Zane scanned the setup with a soldier’s eye and nodded to himself.

Cameras at the corners. Men posted at distance.

The kind of quiet presence that meant no one was getting close without him knowing.

Lily stepped inside first.

The house was quiet. Simple. Beautiful. Polished wood floors, creamy white walls, and long linen curtains that billowed faintly from the windows left open to the breeze.

A single vase of fresh flowers stood on a side table near the entry, their scent subtle but clean.

Everything was uncluttered, calm. Soft light spilled from sconces in the walls, warming the space without harshness.

It felt like a place meant to exhale in.

A place where someone had thought, really thought, about what peace might look like.

He followed, and saw her freeze.

Not visibly. Not for anyone else. But he knew her now. Knew the way she held tension in her spine, the way her breath caught and didn’t quite let go. Knew the difference between her silence and her fear, and this was the latter, soft and uncertain, but there.

They’d made love before, more than once. Rough. Fast. Necessary. But this place, the clean lines, the quiet beauty, the soft intimacy of the space, seemed to press on her in a different way. Like she didn’t know where to put herself in it. Like it was too still. Too real. Too exposed.

But this wasn’t about urgency. It wasn’t about protection, or survival, or heat born from chaos.

It wasn’t about claiming or defending or proving something in the dark.

Not tonight. Not here. The air between them had shifted, slowed.

What pressed in now wasn’t danger, but possibility.

And it left her trembling in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

This was their wedding night.

And for the first time, she looked… uncertain.

Not of him. But of herself. Of what it meant to be seen, truly seen, without armor, without shadows, without the easy excuse of danger to hide behind. Now there were no threats, no enemies, no adrenaline to outrun. Just the quiet, terrifying reality of being wanted. Chosen. Loved.

She didn’t turn to him. Didn’t ask for anything.

She didn’t have to.

Zane crossed the room slowly, each step quiet against the polished floor, the soft whisper of his boots barely audible. As he neared, his fingers brushed the back of her hand, gentle, steady. And gave her what she didn’t know how to ask for.

He didn’t speak. Just lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm, right where the Dante Brand shimmered in the shape of a dove, luminous and whole.

It wasn’t fire. It wasn’t magic. It was legacy.

A vow etched in glory and lineage, sealed not with dominance, but with devotion.

Her breath hitched, a sharp, almost involuntary sound, and her eyes flicked to his, searching, startled. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers curled slightly, just enough to acknowledge the moment, the meaning. Just enough to hold on.

Zane turned her gently, led her into the master bedroom, guiding her backward until the backs of her knees met the edge of the bed. He didn’t push. Just waited until she sat, until she looked up at him, eyes wide, uncertain, but open.

He knelt in front of her.

“I’m not here to take,” he said quietly. “Not tonight.”