Page 40 of Scarred Bratva King

I lift my chin, holding his gaze. “Yes. I love him. And I’m not going anywhere. You can question me all you want, but the truth will never change.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he nods, though it feels more like an acknowledgment of a battle well-fought than actual approval.

“We’ll see,” he says, his voice neutral again. “For your sake—and his—I hope you’re telling the truth.”

With that, he starts walking again, his grip on my arm a little less bruising.

The double doors open, and the hum of the crowd hits me like a wave. I step into the grand hall, the room buzzing with muted whispers as every head turns toward me.

The crowd is a sea of tailored suits and shimmering gowns, the air thick with the weight of their stares.

I force myself to keep moving, my steps steady even though my heart is pounding.

And then I see him.

Maxim stands at the altar, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of soft candlelight. His suit is gorgeous but it’s his eyes that hold me in place.

They’re dark, intense, and entirely focused on me. It’s a look that feels like a warning, as though he’s daring anyone in the room to so much as breathe wrong in my direction.

He looks like he’d burn the world to the ground just to keep me safe.

The thought sends a strange warmth through me.

Victor releases my arm as we reach the altar, stepping aside without a word.

Maxim stands tall, his gaze fixed on me as though nothing else in the room exists. The weight of his attention presses against my chest, stealing my breath away.

The officiant’s voice cuts through the silence, formal and steady. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Maxim Viktorovich Stepanov and Veronica Bennett in holy matrimony before God.”

As he continues, my nerves churn, but Maxim doesn’t look away. It’s as if he’s silently commanding me to hold steady, to match the strength in his gaze with my own.

“Marriage,” the officiant says, his voice reverent, “is a bond built on trust, respect, and love. It is the foundation of family, the cornerstone of legacy, and the ultimate commitment between two souls.”

Trust. Respect. Love.

The words land heavily in my chest, and I fight the urge to glance at the crowd behind me. They’re watching, waiting, analyzing every move, every expression. Marco could be watching too, somewhere out there in the shadows.

But then Maxim’s hand brushes against mine.

“You’re doing fine,” he murmurs, so low that only I can hear.

The officiant continues, turning to Maxim. “Maxim, do you take Veronica to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love, honor, and cherish her, in good times and in bad, for as long as you both shall live?”

I hold my breath, my heart hammering. The room is so silent I can hear the faint rustle of fabric as someone shifts in their seat.

Maxim’s voice is firm, carrying an unshakable authority. “I do.”

The simple words send a shiver down my spine.

The officiant turns to me, his expression warm but expectant. “Veronica, do you take Maxim to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love, honor, and cherish him, in good times and in bad, for as long as you both shall live?”

My throat tightens, but I force myself to speak. “I do.”

The words sound stronger than I expect, ringing out clear and steady. Maxim’s lips twitch at the corners, the faintest hint of approval flashing in his eyes.

The officiant gestures to the simple rings resting on a silver tray. My heart pounds as Maxim reaches for mine.

“Rings,” the officiant says, “are a symbol of eternity, an unbroken circle representing the love and commitment shared between two people. By exchanging these rings, you seal the promises made today.”

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