Chapter 4 - Vows in the ICUThe hum of the mechanical ventilator filled the sterile isolation room like the ticking of a doomsday clock.
Father Thomas stood beside the bed, his elderly hands trembling as he held his prayer book open to the ceremony of matrimony. The smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, masking the faint, lingering scent of copper and hospital iodine.
Dominic stood tall and rigid beside the mattress, his dark suit replaced by a simple black shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal scarred forearms. On the small bedside table sat a heavy, 24-karat gold band encrusted with three small, flawless black diamonds—the Rossi family crest ring, resized instantly by a terrified jeweler woken up at two in the morning.
"My son," Father Thomas whispered, crossing himself anxiously. "To enter into holy matrimony under these circumstances... with a woman who cannot consent... it is unorthodox to say the least."
"She doesn't need to consent right now," Dominic replied coldly. "I am binding her to my house, Father. And I am binding myself to her survival. Proceed."
With a heavy sigh, the priest began the rites in a low, reverent murmur. When he reached the final blessing, Dominic took Clara’s cold, swollen, IV-pierced hand in his own large, calloused palm.
He slid the heavy gold band onto her ring finger. It looked impossibly bright against her bruised, pale skin.
"Now," Dominic whispered, leaning close enough to brush his lips against her ear, ignoring the priest and the armed guards stationed outside the glass. "Anybody who comes for you comes through me."
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He didn't promise her forever. He didn't whisper sweet lies about eternal love.
He laid down a boundary of blood and iron that the entire underworld would soon learn never to cross.
