Page 51 of Brutal Monster
"Today," the officiant intones, "we witness the union of not just two people, but two legacies."
I lean closer to Inez, my lips near her ear, appearing to any observer like a man whispering sweet nothings to his bride.
"If he's alive," I breathe, "he won't be for long."
Inez's eyes flash with cold understanding. That silent communication between us—the true foundation of our alliance—speaks volumes more than any wedding vow.
"I promise to honor and protect," I say, loud enough for the assembled guests to hear. The official words mask my real promise: blood for anyone who threatens what's mine.
The officiant continues, his voice carrying across the clifftop garden. I barely hear him. My attention splits between Inez's face and the area around us. Mikhail shifts his weight again, finger tapping twice against his thigh—our signal that something's happening.
I don't react visibly. Years of discipline have taught me to keep my face impassive even when adrenaline floods my system. The guests see only a groom focused on his bride, not a predator scenting danger.
"The rings," the officiant prompts.
Mikhail produces a platinum band and passes it to me with steady hands. I take the ring, my fingers brushing against the cold metal.
"With this ring," I say, sliding it onto Inez's finger, "I thee wed."
Her hand remains steady as steel. No trembling, no hesitation. Even now, with threats lurking somewhere beyond our sight, she doesn't falter. This is why she's perfect and why we'll rule together.
She takes my ring from her maid of honor—one of her most trusted lieutenants—and slides it onto my finger. "With this ring, I thee wed." Her voice carries strength and certainty.
Through my earpiece, I hear the faint click of a channel opening. Then Sergei's voice, almost imperceptible: "Movementin sector four. Unidentified vehicle approaching from the south access road."
The south road. The one route we deliberately left less fortified as a potential trap. Clever, Adan. But not clever enough.
"By the power vested in me," the officiant declares, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."
I pull Inez close, our kiss a perfect display of the love that's grown between us. Against her lips, I whisper, "South road. My men are handling it."
She kisses me deeper, her fingers tightening on my arm. To everyone watching, it's passion. To me, it's an acknowledgment of the threat.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the officiant announces, "I present Mr. and Mrs. Zhukov."
Applause erupts around us. We turn to face our guests with smiles perfectly in place. Predators in formal wear, celebrating the union of bodies and empires.
As we walk back down the aisle, I keep Inez slightly behind me, my body between her and any potential threat. The string quartet plays something triumphant. Guests throw white rose petals. The perfect wedding scene.
And beneath it all, the current of danger, of business unfinished.
Juan approaches as we reach the reception area, his security detail forming a loose circle around us. "Congratulations," he says, embracing his daughter. When he turns to me, his eyes are hard. "A word, son?"
I nod, squeezing Inez's hand before releasing it. "Of course."
We step away from the crowd, into a small alcove overlooking the ocean. Two of his men and two of mine maintain distance—close enough to protect, far enough for privacy.
"Adan?" Juan asks without preamble.
"Being handled," I reply. "My men intercepted an approaching vehicle."
Juan's weathered face remains impassive, but his eyes narrow slightly. "Alive?"
"For questioning. Then it depends on Adan's answers."
He nods once, satisfaction evident in the slight relaxation of his shoulders. "My son always followed his brother, Emilio. Never smart." He looks out over the Pacific, sunlight reflecting off the water. "You understand what this means?"
"He's gone too far.."
