Mara
We drove to the registry in silence.
My hands were cold, but my expression didn’t betray a thing.
I had promised myself I wouldn't cry—not today, not in front of anyone.
I had made peace with this, or at least I’d convinced myself I had.
Lucian was already waiting when I arrived.
He looked devastating in his black suit—sharp lines, smooth control, completely unreadable. His face was carved from stone, and I imagined mine looked much the same.
I sat beside him. We said nothing. No greetings, no smiles, just the mechanical wait for our names to be called.
We signed the marriage certificate.
And just like that, it was done.
I was a Nighthorn.
But nothing about it felt real. Or maybe it felt too real—so heavy I had no choice but to numb myself against it.
Lucian and I rode
