Marked by Creed

Chapter One Hundred Three: Vows and Violence Beneath the Surface

-----Axton’s POV-----

Five months.

That’s all it had taken for the chaos of his life to turn into something sacred.

Five months of late-night laughter, pancake mornings, princess dresses in the living room, and tiny arms wrapping around his neck calling him daddy.

Five months of watching Helen swell with life, her belly round with their son. His son.

Now he stood at the altar of a small white chapel that smelled faintly of cedar and candle wax, the kind of place built for quiet promises and forever things.

And he was waiting for her.

The pews were filled with the only people who mattered.

Price stood to his left, sharp as a blade in his black suit, a faint smirk ghosting his lips as he kept sneaking glances toward the maid of honor—Sarah.

Sarah, who stood on the other side of the altar beside the little flower girls, looking flushed and gorgeous in soft blue chiffon. Her eyes kept meeting Price’s with a gleam that was all teeth and trouble.

Emma, four and full of sass, stood fidgeting in her white dress, clutching her tiny basket of petals.

Lily, now six and graceful beyond her years, stood proud and perfect, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure everyone was watching her.

Silas sat near the front with his wife, Sierra, hand on her thigh, eyes only for her. The love between them glowed.

Morgan and Rourke sat together, but not together. The space between them felt charged. Rourke kept glancing at her like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. Morgan looked forward, serene but knowing. It wasn’t if—it was when.

And Axton? He was the one holding the weight of the moment.

He adjusted his tie. Black silk. Helen had picked it out.

His hands didn’t usually shake.

But they did now.

Because nothing in his life had ever meant this much.

Then the piano started.

And he turned.

The back doors opened slowly.

There she was.

Helen.

A goddess in ivory.

The dress hugged her pregnant belly like it had been made for this exact moment. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, a few pinned back with delicate pearls. Her face glowed, eyes shining.

His lungs stopped working.

She was everything. She always had been.

Axton couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t look away.

When she reached him, he took her hands, swallowed hard, and whispered, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Helen’s eyes shimmered. “You clean up okay yourself.”

The pastor smiled gently and began to speak.

Axton barely heard it.

All he could see was her.

All he could feel was home.

They exchanged vows.

Simple. Raw. Real.

He promised to protect her, to cherish her, to never stop earning the family she gave him.

She promised to trust him, to forgive him, to love him in the light and the dark.

Price handed him the ring—without a word, but with a nod that meant everything.

Helen’s fingers shook as she slid the band onto his.

And when the pastor finally said, “You may kiss the bride,”

Axton didn’t hesitate.

He pulled her in.

And kissed her like she was oxygen.

Applause rose around them.

The girls squealed. Emma threw petals into the air like glitter.

Sarah wiped a tear. Price didn’t even pretend not to see.

Rourke bumped Morgan’s shoulder. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

Axton held Helen’s hand tight as they turned to face the people who were their everything.

And as they walked down that aisle, husband and wife, with their son growing inside her and their girls dancing down the steps ahead of them, he whispered into her ear:

“I will never stop choosing you.”

Helen leaned into him.

“You’d better not, Creed.”

The doors opened.

Sunlight spilled in.

And together, they stepped into forever.