Page 152 of Savage Saint
Beside me, I hear Dante's sharp intake of breath. "Christ," he mutters. "She's..."
"Perfect," I finish.
Marco is openly sobbing now. "She's so beautiful! They're so perfect together!"
Kasia's lips curve in a small smile at Marco's outburst, and something in my chest cracks open. This woman, who's been through hell, can still smile. Still choose joy. Still choose me.
She crosses the glass-covered pool with grace, each step measured but not hesitant. When she reaches me, I extend my hand.
"Hi," she whispers.
"Hi, Butterfly."
"Oh God," Marco wails. "He calls her Butterfly!"
Even Dante looks like he's fighting a smile now.
"Dearly beloved," Dante begins, his voice carrying across the rooftop. "We gather here today to witness something I never thought I'd see—my brother Angelo choosing love over solitude."
"Get on with it," I mutter.
"Patience," he chides. "I have a whole speech prepared."
"Of course you do."
Kasia squeezes my hand, fighting a laugh.
"But I'll spare you," Dante continues. "Because what matters isn't my words, but yours. Angelo?"
I turn to face Kasia fully, taking both her hands in mine. For a moment, I just look at her, trying to find words big enough for what I feel.
"I spent my life believing I was only capable of destruction," I begin, my voice rougher than intended. "That I was the family monster, the savage one, built only for war and violence."
Her thumbs stroke over my knuckles, encouraging me.
"You showed me I could build. You showed me that maybe..." My voice catches, and I have to swallow before continuing."Maybe monsters are just what heroes look like in the dark," I repeat the words she once whispered to me.
Tears slip down her cheeks, but she's smiling.
"I choose you, Kasia. I choose to build a life with you, to transform our darkness into something beautiful. You're not just my Butterfly. You're my redemption, my salvation, my reason to be more than what they made me."
"Fuck," Luca mutters, swiping at his eyes. "When did you learn to talk like that?"
Marco is beyond words, just clutching Mel and sobbing.
Even Arrow looks suspiciously misty-eyed as they film.
"Kasia," Dante prompts gently.
She takes a breath, her eyes never leaving mine.
"You called yourself a monster the first time you told me who you really were," she begins, her voice clear and strong. "But I saw differently. I saw a man who protected what was his, who carried me from that container when he could have left me behind. A hero in the dark."
My throat tightens. No one's ever called me a hero before. Never thought anyone could see me that way.
"We're both made of shadows and sharp edges, forged in violence and loss. But together? Together we're something new." Her voice grows stronger with each word. "I take the name Santoro not to hide who I was, but to declare who I'm becoming. Your wife. Your partner. Your equal. I choose this family, this life, this love. I choose to let our darkness protect what we build in the light."
"Jesus Christ," Dante breathes, and I realise he's actually tearing up. The unshakeable don, crying at his brother's wedding.
