Lucas

She was marrying the man she loved, Lucas—confident, cool, and quietly caring. None of the guests suspected that her husband was not just a businessman, but a man whose name was whispered in the criminal underworld.

And just when the music changed to a slower tempo, he appeared—her ex. A drunken smile, cheap confidence, loud words, as if he still had rights to her. He stepped closer:

• Well, did you miss me? Maybe you'll change your mind?

The air in the room froze Behind her, Lucas's low voice sounded:

— Get away from my wife. This is your last warning.

The former man chuckled, not understanding who he was talking to. His people immediately appeared nearby—friends, blood brothers, those who had long since ceased to need words.

“I could deal with him,” Arsen quietly suggested, adjusting his cuff.

“No,” Lucas barked, already pulling a pistol from under his jacket. Ramir managed to put his hand on his shoulder:

"Brother, you'll get dirty. Leave it with Jura. Or we'll take it to the warehouse—you can have some fun after the wedding."

He didn't even blink:

• After the wedding, I will be busy with my wife.

The ex finally realized that he had come to the wrong place.