Page 119 of Brutal Unionn
I glance at my reflection but let my eyes drift lower, away from the bold smokey eye Lily spent months practicing to look bold but also natural with limited glitter for my sake, down to my hands. My thumb grazes the ring, turning it slightly.
I never imagined myself here.
Not in a bridal suite. Not surrounded by dresses and perfume and women screaming about flowers like it’s life or death. Not sitting still long enough to be pampered, dressed, styled like I belong to something soft.
Marriage wasn’t a thing I pictured for myself—not once. I used to tell people love was a distraction. A weak point. A liability that gets you killed or worse, owned.
But then I woke up with a ring on my finger.
Not just any ring—a heavy 18k yellow gold band, thick and warm against my skin. At the center, a flawless 4-caratmarquise diamond, so clear it looked like a drop of frozen fire. Wrapped around it, instead of standard white pavé, were blood-red rubies set in a perfect halo. The contrast was brutal. Beautiful. Like something meant for me.
Accompanied with an Italian sunrise, fresh black coffee and Sho in a full suit as he waited for me to wake up felt right. I mean I never corrected him when he called me his wife. I knew just as well as he continuously told me that we were inevitable. All this fanfare is just for show. Sho is mine, and I am his. We bled, cried and killed for this.
Aoi gives one final spritz of something floral and expensive, that makes me want to cough. “All done.”
She gently pulls the pins free, and the curls cascade down my back—thick, glossy waves that look too elegant to belong to someone like me. Aoi truly is a master of beauty. Not the fake, polished kind. The kind that makes you look exactly like who you are, just sharper. Watching her now, I’m reminded of how far we’ve come.
We started out as enemies. Circling each other. Testing limits. Waiting for the other to strike first.
Then somewhere between the betrayals, near-deaths, and watching her quietly love Bhon with everything she doesn’t say out loud… she became something else. Not just an ally. Not quite a sister. A friend—at least, as close as Aoi will let herself have outside of Bhon.
She doesn’t trust people. Not really. I don’t either, but she trusts Sho, and Sho trusts me. For now, I think that is enough for her to stop threatening to kill me.
“You look... terrifyingly beautiful,” she says, stepping back with a grin. “Sho’s going to combust.”
I stand slowly and walk to the full-length mirror by the window. For a second, I don’t recognize the woman staring back. Not because she looks soft, but because she looks like she is seconds from conquering a part of herself I never thought she would conquer.
I drag my finger across the stone again.
He’s still an arrogant asshole. Still impossible. Still taunts me every time I pretend I’m not in love with him. But he keeps showing up. Keeps holding my hand when the world burns. And somehow, that’s enough.
“Thinking about backing out?” Aoi asks, watching me in the mirror.
“No,” I say quietly. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous,” Aoi clicks her tongue as she points the curling rod at me. “I just want you to know I am on strict orders to get you down that aisle, by any means necessary.”
In the background, Gwen is yelling again—this time at the caterer for missing the vegan quiches. Lily’s running through the hallway in heels that don’t fit. Someone drops a tray of champagne flutes.
“I promise,” I snort. “I will make it down the aisle, now let's see if my bridesmaids do as well.”
Aoi looks over her shoulder at both of them maniacally working in the hallway. “My wedding gift to you will be getting them to stop freaking.”
I giggle, as she clicks off the curler and places it on the table. “Hey, I still want thosehisandherskatana!”
“That’s Bhon’s present,” she sticks her tongue out at me clapping, her hands together as she pleasantly saysladies.
Chuckling, I turn back to myself in the mirror.
The dress Gwen fought me on fits like it was made for a war queen. Timeless silk, structured bodice, no lace, no frills. The fabric hugs my frame with clean lines, and the slit down the left leg is obscene in the best way—high enough to show the thigh holster GwenthinksI’m not wearing.
I smooth my hands down the waist, catching the shimmer of gold at my ring finger. This dress wasn’t made just to walk down the aisle. It was also made for battle in case anyone tried to kill both the leaders of the Yakuza and the Bratva on their wedding day.
This wedding isn’t just about love. It’s about power. About showing the world—our allies and our enemies—that the Bratva and the Yakuza are no longer at war. That we’re united. Bound not just by blood and history, but by choice.
One foot in the Bratva. One foot in the Yakuza.
After our fathers died, there was chaos. Blood, betrayal, and power grabs from every direction. Sho and I tried to hold it all together—him running Japan, me managing the States. We lasted a few months before burning out, both exhausted and missing each other more than either of us wanted to admit.
