Page 116 of The Pawn

“I have something to tell you,” Vivi says once we’re outside. For a moment, dread fills my stomach. She’s young. She’s going to move on. I know that. I saw she’d taken his ring off her finger.

I prepare myself.

“Gage tested negative.”

I’m confused. That’s not what I’m expecting. “What?”

She smiles and on this day of days, I see true happiness beside all the loss that has shadowed her eyes. “He doesn’t have the gene, Cassian. What happened to Seth won’t happen to him. It won’t happen to his children or to their children.” She laughs and cries at once as she throws herself into my arms for a tight hug. “He’s going to be all right. We’re going to be all right.”

She draws back and I am so happy and so sad at once. It’s the strangest feeling.

“We can start to live a normal life now. Finally. We can start to live.”

EPILOGUE 1

CASSIAN

The Wedding

The wedding takes place at the edge of the property on Devil’s Peak. It’s a beautiful spring evening, dusk settling in after a clear, sunny day. It’s a small ceremony. Severin shows up, which is surprising, especially considering he wasn’t invited. Jet is my best man. Amal is Allegra’s maid of honor.

Jet and I stand beneath the pergola erected for our altar. The priest from the local church in town will perform the ceremony. Candles surround us and line the path to guide Allegra to me.

Now, as the sun takes its final bow of the day, Amal appears on the path. She’s dressed in a black floor length gown and is holding a single white rose. She’s stunning with her long dark hair and ice blue eyes. She just celebrated her eighteenth birthday, Jet advised me.

I shift my gaze to Jet as she begins to walk down the aisle toward us. I watch how he never once takes his eyes off her and she, in turn, looks directly at him with a confidence I wouldn’t expect of someone as young as her.

Although, with a father like Malek Lombardi, what do I expect?

Amal smiles at me briefly as she takes her place, giving Jet a long look before Allegra appears. The instant I see her, my heart skips a beat, my breath catching somewhere in my throat.

She is utter perfection in her long, silvery gown that could be made of moonlight. Her hair is loose down her back and in her hands is a single rose so red it appears black. Her lips match the blood red, so fitting my violent mafia queen, the scar on her face still angry, a mark of her resilience, her unending well of strength.

Music begins. A recording of her mother playing her favorite piece. It’s dark and haunting and completely inappropriate for a wedding

I close my eyes momentarily before opening them to meet hers. Her whiskey eyes are lined heavily in black. She is stunning, my bride. She is perfection in her imperfection, and I love her so much my body aches at the sight of her approaching, coming to me as the piano plays around the edges of our world, our violent, unforgiving world.

When she takes her final steps, I see how her eyes have filled with tears and when I take her hands, when I finally take her hands, a single tear falls, sliding down her cheek, leaving a black mascara trail. It fits my beautiful bride.

The rose is gone. She lets it drop to our feet as I take her hands in mine and we stand so close, so damn close there isnothing between us, no one around us, just us, just her and me and this strange, dark melody.

I lean toward Allegra, bring my lips to her cheek, her ear. I inhale her scent, familiar now. A mix of me and her.

“You take my breath away,” I whisper.

She shudders. “You stole mine a long time ago,” she whispers back.

The priest clears his throat.

We draw apart just a few inches, our hands still bound together as the sun disappears beneath the horizon and the only light is that of the candles.

“We are gathered here to bear witness to the marriage of Allegra Moretti and Cassian Trevino…” the priest begins, but I don’t hear him.

The ceremony will be a short one. He’s only here to make sure it’s official. To ensure no one can ever oppose our marriage.

“Cassian,” the priest says.

Jet takes the rings out of his pocket. It’s the band that matches her mother’s ring, the one she already has on her finger. I take her left hand in mine and glance down to place the ring on her finger.