The ceremony is small and intimate in the way I never thought I’d want but now can’t imagine any other way. We rented an estate in the countryside outside Modesto, which is all rolling hills dotted with oak trees and wildflowers that stretch toward mountains in the distance. It’s the kind of place where the only sounds are wind through grass and the occasional call of birds overhead.
We have no security detail, weapons checks, or bulletproof vehicles hidden behind the barn. There are just twenty people who matter to us, gathered to witness something I never thought I’d live long enough to experience.
Jessie stands at the makeshift altar holding our daughter, her role as maid-of-honor complicated by Elizabeth refusing to let anyone else but her or us hold her for more than a few minutes at a time. At thirteen months old, our daughter has developed strong opinions about most things, especially about who she trusts with her care.
Maksim adjusts his tie beside me, clearly uncomfortable in a tux, though he’d never complain about standing as my best man. The transition from lieutenant to friend has been smoother than either of us expected, and I’m grateful he agreed to be here for this moment.
“You ready for this?” he asks quietly while we wait for the music to begin.
“I’ve been ready since the night I met her.”
He smiles.
The string quartet begins playing something classical and beautiful that Sabrina selected weeks ago, though I only have ears for the rustle of movement behind me as she prepares to walk down the aisle. When I turn to watch her approach, everything else fades into background noise.
She walks toward me in a simple ivory dress that skims her ankles, her hair pinned back in an elegant updo with a feathered fascinator that showcases the delicate earrings I gave her this morning. She wears no veil, and there’s no elaborate train or anything that might suggest she needs to be hidden or protected from the world. Just Sabrina, radiant and confident and choosing to spend her life with a man who used to solve problems with violence.
She meets my gaze and doesn’t look away, her smile soft and certain as she closes the distance between us. Each step feels deliberate and meaningful, like she’s walking not just down an aisle but into a future we’ve built together from the wreckage of everything I used to be.
When she reaches me, I take her hands and feel the familiar rightness of her touch. No rings yet—those come after the vows—but the promise between us is already unbreakable. The officiant begins speaking about love and commitment and the sacred bond between two people, though I barely hear the words. All my attention is focused on the woman in front of me.
“Do you, Nikandr, take Sabrina to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.” The words come without hesitation, carrying the weight of every choice that brought us to this moment.
“Do you, Sabrina, take Nikandr to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.” Her voice is clear and strong, with no doubt or reservation coloring her response.
When the officiant tells us to exchange vows, I don’t hesitate. I didn’t prepare a long speech full of elaborate promises that might sound hollow given my history. I just speak the truth, delivered with the kind of honesty that’s become the foundation of our relationship.
“I promise to choose you every day for the rest of my life, to protect what we’ve built without sacrificing who you are, to be the man our daughter sees when she looks at her father, and the partner you deserve in whatever comes next.” I take a breath, steadying myself. “I love you.”
Tears glisten in her eyes, though her smile remains strong. “I promise to trust you with our future, to build something beautiful with you that our daughter can be proud of, and to love you not despite who you were, but because of who you chose to become.” Her voice catches slightly. “You saved me in every way a person can be saved, and I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you what that means. I love you too.”
The ring exchange feels surreal as I slide the simple gold band onto her finger before she does the same for me. “By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
I cup her face in my hands and kiss her with all the love and passion and gratitude I feel for this woman who saw something worth saving in a man who’d given up on redemption. When we break apart, the small gathering erupts in applause and cheers. Elizabeth claps her hands from Jessie’s arms, babbling something that might be congratulations or might just be excitement about the general celebration happening around her.
We’re married. Actually, legally, and permanently married. The reality feels both unreal and absolutely inevitable.
Dinner is served outside as the late summer evening settles around us. Elizabeth toddles between laps with the fearless confidence of a child who’s never known anything but love and safety. She charms everyone, babbling in her own language and offering bites of her dinner to anyone within reach. Watching her interact with our guests fills me with the kind of pride I never knew existed.
“She’s going to be trouble,” Jessie says while Elizabeth attempts to feed mashed potatoes to Maksim’s date. “Look at that determination.”
“She gets that from both sides,” Sabrina says, watching our daughter with obvious adoration. “Heaven help us when she’s old enough to really assert her independence.”
The evening passes in a blur of conversation, laughter, and toasts from people who’ve watched us build this life together from literally nothing. There’s no mention of the syndicate or violence. It’s just a celebration of love and family and the future we’re creating together.
When the last guests finally depart and the catering staff finishes cleaning up, we’re alone for the first time all day. Elizabeth fell asleep an hour ago, carried upstairs by Jessie, who volunteered to handle bedtime duties so we could have a few minutes to ourselves.
I pull Sabrina close under the string lights, swaying to music that exists only in my memory. Her head rests against my shoulder, and I feel her contentment in the way she melts into my embrace. “No regrets?” I ask quietly.
“About marrying an ex-crime boss? Not a single one.” She lifts her head to meet my eyes. “What about you? Any second thoughts about giving up your empire for domestic bliss?”
“This is my empire now.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Everything else was just preparation for this.”
She reaches up to kiss me. “This is just the beginning. We’re a family now forever.”
Forever. The word used to terrify me, being associated with blood oaths and obligations that lasted until death. Now it feels like hope, safety, and the best possible future I could imagine.
For the first time in my life, I feel completely at peace. Even more than that, I’m happy.
