Page 246 of Sins of the Hidden

"Can I call you Dad?"

The words hung in the air like smoke from a gun barrel. Law's hands went completely still, his eyes finding mine in the reflection. Something flickered across his features—surprise, then something softer, more dangerous.

Then his mouth twisted into that familiar snarl, and he jerked the tie tight enough to cut off my air before loosening it."Don't push it, you psychotic fuck. I'm already letting you marry my daughter. Again."

But there was no real venom in it. Just the comfortable hostility of men who'd found their way to understanding through mutual threat and grudging respect.

"We have the same last name."

"Don't fucking remind me." He stepped back, checking his work. The tie hung straight and proper, transforming me into something that belonged at an altar instead of in a basement. "Chet would've loved this shit. Probably would've insisted on being your best man just to watch me suffer through the whole thing."

Chet's face flashed in my mind—that permanent smirk, the way he'd lean against walls like he owned them, arms crossed and eyes dancing with whatever scheme he was cooking up. How he'd talk his way into and out of situations that should have killed him ten times over.

How he should have been here, making jokes about my tie, offering commentary that would get him punched.

Law adjusted the knot one final time, then reached for the tuxedo jacket draped over the chair. Black fabric, pressed and formal, waiting to complete the transformation from monster to groom.

"Can't have you looking like shit on my daughter's wedding day." He held the jacket up, waiting for me to slip my arms through. "She deserves better than that." The cuff of my shirt lifted, Law grabbed it to adjust it but saw the scars instead. He pushed it up to read the name. "Who the hell is Summer?"

"Your grandchild."

His hands went still on the fabric. "Oakley's pregnant?"

"I’m trying."

Law blanched as he shoved the sleeve back down, almost making me lose my balance. He grabbed the jacket, smoothingit across my shoulders, then stepped back to examine his work. He turned to leave, he paused at the door. His hand gripped the knob, shoulders tense with whatever he was working through in his head. When he looked back, something had shifted in his face.

"See you at the end of the aisle, son."

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with my reflection and the weight of what was coming.

An hour later, I stood at the altar with my hands at my sides, willing the doors to open. The bat rested against the wall behind me—close enough to reach, hidden from the guests but there if needed. Old habits.

The clubhouse had been transformed. White fabric draped across steel beams, softening edges without hiding what this place really was. Folding chairs in uneven rows held brothers who'd scrubbed blood from under their fingernails and tucked weapons away for one sacred afternoon.

The formal clothes felt like a costume, like playing at being something I wasn't. But this was what she wanted. What she deserved. A real, legit wedding.

The first notes filled the air—"Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls. Oakley had said it reminded her of us, of everything we'd been and become. Each note settled into spaces between my ribs, filling cracks I'd forgotten existed. When I played with my toys at Hellbound, I listened to it. When I waited outside her apartment, these notes kept me company.

The Souls shifted in their seats, all of them wearing their usual attire besides Law, Tyrant, and me. I didn’t want to talk about what Tyrant was fucking wearing. He had whole fucking priest robes on that he decided to wear today with his role play glasses. When Law got onto him about it he said, “Oakley wants a proper wedding. I will play a proper priest even though I bought this outfit for sin.”

The doors opened.

She appeared, and everything else ceased to exist.

White fabric embraced every curve like worship, the princess-style ballgown cascading in voluminous layers that caught light and transformed it. The fitted bodice hugged her torso, accentuating the fullness of her breasts before the skirt billowed dramatically from her natural waist. Multiple layers of tulle and organza created a magnificent silhouette that moved like liquid moonlight with each step. Lace traced her shoulders and arms in intricate patterns, the long sleeves delicate as spun sugar. The sweetheart neckline revealed the gentle slope of her collarbones and the silver necklace I'd given her was nestled in the hollow of her throat.

The cathedral train swept behind her, yards of pristine fabric pooling like spilled cream, scattered with hand-sewn pearls that caught the light. The voluminous skirt celebrated every soft curve of her hips and thighs, the princess cut designed to make her look like royalty—which she was, at least to me.

Her chestnut hair swept up in an elaborate arrangement, twisted and pinned with pearl-tipped pins that caught the lights. Loose curls framed her face, soft waves brushing against cheeks that flushed with color I'd memorized a thousand times.

The veil couldn't hide those eyes. Jade green, impossible and luminous, holding mine with intensity that made my chest constrict. They'd once watched me with terror, tracked mymovements like prey calculating escape. Now they held certainty where there had been doubt.

The dress celebrated her body instead of hiding it, the structured bodice providing support while the flowing skirt embraced her soft curves. She was Venus carved in flesh and bone, a goddess who'd chosen to love a monster.

Law walked beside her, rigid in his tuxedo but steady. His arm linked with hers, the man who'd once threatened to skin me alive now delivering his daughter to my hands. Our eyes met across the distance—his filled with warning, mine with a promise I couldn't voice: I would die before letting anything touch her.

They took the first step together. Her dress whispered against the floor, layers of fabric creating a symphony of movement that nearly drowned the roar in my ears. As they moved down the aisle, Oakley's eyes never left mine. Not when guests murmured appreciation. Not when Joslyn wiped tears. Not when Faith smoothed her train.

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