The official wedding, the public celebration, arrives with spring warmth and media frenzy. They have been married for months, legally, secretly. But this is the statement, the declaration, the promise to the world.
Allie wakes early, before dawn, her stomach knotted with nerves and excitement. She is not worried about the marriage itself. That is done, solid, real. She is worried about the performance, the exposure, the danger of gathering so many enemies and allies in one place.
Dom finds her on the balcony, watching the city wake.
"Nervous?" he asks, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
"Terrified," she admits. "There are so many ways this could go wrong. So many people who want to hurt us, to stop this, to prove that we cannot succeed."
"Then let them watch us succeed," Dom says. "Let them see what we have built. What we are. What they cannot destroy."
They hold each other as the sun rises, gold and pink over the city they are trying to change.
The preparations take all day. Hair, makeup, dress fittings, security briefings. Luna bounces through it all, wearing her flower girl dress, declaring herself "the most important person here because I am the cutest."
Leo is quiet, watchful, checking locks and reviewing protocols despite Allie's reassurances.
"Let the professionals handle security," she tells him. "Today, you are just a kid. My kid. Who gets to enjoy his parents' wedding."
"I am enjoying it," Leo says, serious. "Security is enjoyable. It makes me feel useful."
"You are useful," Allie promises. "You are loved. You are enough, just by being here, just by being you."
Leo nods, not fully convinced, but he puts away his notebook and accepts his role as ring bearer with solemn dignity.
The ceremony is in the garden of a private estate, heavily secured, invitation-only. Two hundred guests, syndicate leaders and politicians and celebrities, all watching to see if the new Volkov way can hold.
Allie walks down the aisle on Leo's arm, because she has no father to give her away, because her son is the man she trusts most in the world. Luna throws petals with enthusiastic chaos, some landing in guests' hair, others in their drinks.
Dom waits at the altar. He is crying, openly, unashamed, as he watches her approach. This man who was raised to hide emotion, to control everything, to never show weakness, is weeping at his own wedding because he is so full of joy he cannot contain it.
They say their vows again, public this time, formal. They promise what they have already promised, in private, in truth. To love, to protect, to build, to choose each other every day.
When they kiss, the crowd cheers. But Allie barely hears them. She is lost in Dom's eyes, in his mouth, in the certainty that this is real, this is hers, this is forever.
The reception lasts for hours. Dancing, toasts, the careful navigation of syndicate politics. Marko Kovac is there, watching, assessing, and Allie makes a point to dance with him, to show no fear, to demonstrate that peace is possible if he chooses it.
Sergei is not there. He died three days ago, quietly, in his sleep. They held a private funeral, just family, and buried him beside the wife he murdered and the son he destroyed. Dom did not speak at the grave. He had said everything he needed to say.
But tonight, at the reception, he raises a glass. "To the past," he says, his voice carrying. "To what we inherit, what we survive, what we transcend. And to the future. To what we build, what we choose, what we become."
The guests drink. The party continues. And Allie and Dom, finally alone in a quiet corner, hold each other and breathe.
"We did it," Dom whispers.
"We did," Allie agrees. "And we will keep doing it. Every day. Every challenge. Together."
"Together," Dom echoes. "Always."
They dance, slow and close, while their children sleep upstairs and their enemies watch from the shadows and their future unfolds, uncertain but shared.
Tomorrow, the work continues. The empire, the family, the constant effort to be better than they were, better than the world expects, better than the past demands.
But tonight, they celebrate. They love. They are.
And that is enough.