Chapter 163 - ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY THREE

Chapter 163: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY THREE

ANGEL

"Useful?" she squeaked, clutching her collar.

"Mmhmm." I glanced down at my polished nails, letting her panic settle. "You’re going to help coordinate the arrangements for the ceremony today. And then..."

I leaned in close to her ear and whispered a few distinct instructions into her ear. Her eyes blew wide in confusion and shock for a second, before she began nodding frantically.

"Yes! Yes, of course! Whatever you want, ma’am!"

"Good girl." I patted her pale cheek softly, making her flinch. "We’re going to get along just fine. You can go now."

She practically scrambled out the door the moment I unlocked it.

I turned to the mirror, fixing my lip gloss, taking a slow breath before walking back out into the hallway.

Damien was leaning against the wood-paneled wall right outside, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Should I be checking the supply closet for a body?" he asked, one dark eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Tianna and I came to a mutual agreement." I stepped up to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning my head against his chest. "She’s going to be very helpful with the event."

"What did you tell her, you little menace?"

"Nothing terrible." I tilted my chin up, pressing a quick kiss to his jawline, "Just reminded her who she was dealing with. She won’t step out of line again."

Damien’s arms tightened around me, pulling me so flush against him I could feel his hardness pressing against my hip. His eyes darkened with possessive pride.

"My vicious little creature," he murmured against my mouth. "God, I fucking love you."

"I know."

"Say it back, Angel."

I smirked against his lips, my fingers digging into his back. "Make me."

He let out a laugh before bringing his mouth down on mine, biting my bottom lip and kissing me until my knees went weak.

***

I stood before the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back at me.

The gown was magnificent. The structured lace bodice hugged my waist perfectly and accommodated the subtle, soft swell of my lower stomach. My hair was styled in an intricate updo, and my skin glowed with a radiant warmth.

I looked like a bride. A woman standing on the precipice of a beautiful dream.

Outside, the afternoon was flawless—clear blue skies, a gentle ocean breeze rustling through the palm trees. Through the balcony glass, I could see the setup on the cliffside: an open-air wooden pavilion draped in sheer white fabric and fresh ivory roses, framing the endless blue expanse of the sea.

The guest list was non-existent.

A dozen of Damien’s top men stood along the perimeter—built like brick walls in tailored dark suits, their hands resting near their holsters, eyes scanning the area continuously. Three resort staff members had been called in to act as official witnesses.

Among them stood Tianna, holding a lush arrangement of white lilies. When her gaze briefly met mine, she flinched and quickly dropped her eyes to the ground.

At the front of the altar stood an officiant Damien had brought in. He looked pale, nervously clutching his book as his eyes darted toward the armed guards stationed nearby.

And then there was Damien.

He stood at the end of the aisle in a crisp, black suit. Clean-shaven, impeccably groomed, his dark hair styled back, looking like absolute power personified. The moment I stepped into view, his storm-grey eyes locked onto mine.

The noise of the wind and the ocean faded into a dull hum.

There were no family members to cheer or give me away. Just him, waiting for me at the altar, ready to claim me legally and completely.

I began my walk down the runner.

Every step felt strangely surreal.

This was not the surname I had spent my youth imagining. Damien Ricci was not the hero I had pictured when I was a girl dreaming of my future.

I used to dream of being Mrs. Hale. I wanted to be Vincenzo’s wife, his absolute priority, his entire world. I remembered scribbling Angel Hale into old notebooks, believing that was the only destiny meant for me.

Yet here I was, walking toward Damien Ricci. Entering a darker, far more volatile promise.

Damien never broke eye contact as I reached his side.

The ceremony commenced.

The officiant’s voice sounded muffled, droning on about vows, honor, and everlasting devotion.

When it came time for the vows, Damien took both of my hands in his.

"I’ve never believed in anything," he said softly, his deep voice cutting through the sound of the crashing waves. "Not fate, not redemption, not the goodness of people. But I believe in you, Angel. You are the only thing in this world that feels real to me." He swallowed, holding my gaze. "I vow to protect you, to keep you, and to love you until my last breath. Death won’t change that. Nothing will."

A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though his grey eyes remained deadly serious.

"You’re mine now. Forever."

A sharp sting caught in my throat. He meant every single word.

The officiant turned his attention to me.

"Do you, Angel, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

I opened my mouth to deliver the answer.

The words were right there, resting on the tip of my tongue, but my airway constricted suddenly. I couldn’t force the sound out.

"Angel?" Damien’s brow furrowed, his grip on my fingers tightening. "What is it, baby?"

I could see the life he was offering me. A home, security, a strange, intense kind of devotion that defied logic. A fairytale built just for us.

I could see it so clearly.

And yet, right alongside it, I could feel the inevitable ruin. The lies, the blood, the unresolved chaos trailing behind us like a shadow.

"I..." My voice cracked, barely a whisper. "I..."

BANG.

A sudden, sharp commotion at the edge of the pavilion shattered the silence. Kovacs rushed up the steps, his face rigid with extreme tension.

"Boss," he interrupted sharply, leaning in toward Damien. "We have a massive breach."

"Not right now." Damien didn’t even look at him, his gaze pinned entirely on my face. "Whatever it is, clear it out."

"Sir, it’s not just a breach, they’ve cut the entire perimeter—"

"I said handle it, Kovacs!" Damien snapped.

"Boss, there are dozens of them—"

"HANDLE IT!" Damien roared, turning his head to glare at his second-in-command with bloodcurdling fury.

Kovacs backed away immediately, signaling to the guards, who drew their weapons and fanned out around the cliffside.

Damien turned back to me, his features softening, a desperate, raw plea breaking through his usual cold exterior.

"Say the words, Angel," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "Just say ’I do.’ That’s all I need to hear."

There was no force in his voice. No command. Just a monster begging for the one thing he couldn’t take by force.

I parted my lips to speak—

BOOM.

Automatic gunfire tore through the quiet afternoon air, shredding the white fabric draped around the altar.

Shrieks echoed as the staff dropped to the ground. Damien’s men drew their handguns, returning fire as rounds tore through the wooden structure, splintering the deck into pieces.

Damien drew his sidearm instantly, pulling me behind his broad back as his guards fell one by one, blood staining the white floral arrangements red.

"How..." Damien muttered through gritted teeth, his eyes scanning the tree line in utter disbelief. "No one knew about this location..."

Slowly, his head turned back toward me.

Those grey eyes—the eyes that had looked at me with adoration only moments ago—went dead cold. Suspicious.

"Did you set this up, baby?" he asked quietly, his voice dangerously soft.

"What? No—"

"Did you. Betray. Me?"

I couldn’t answer.

Because stepping through the cloud of smoke at the edge of the pavilion, surrounded by armed men, was a shadow from my past.

Tall, dark-haired, with cold eyes.

Vincenzo.