Page 91 of Black Reign

White shirt open at the collar. Tuxedo trousers. No jacket yet. Hannah’s father is somewhere upstairs. Half the NBA appears to have descended on the guest wing. There are florists in every hallway and catering teams moving like military units through the lower level.

Kane has a coffee.

I have a security operation that would make a diplomatic summit look careless.

And somehow I’m the one being mocked.

Haverhill looks at me.

Then at my watch.

Then at Drew.

“What number are we at?”

“Thirty.”

Kane thinks.

“I’ll take fifty that she comes.”

I stare at him.

“You’re betting on this too?”

“It’s my wedding.”

“That is becoming your excuse for everything.”

“Works pretty well.”

Vale lifts one shoulder.

“I still have the original hundred-to-one.”

“That bet was ridiculous.”

“Only because you’re worried I’ll collect.”

Leo smiles over his cup.

“Blackwell is nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

Drew makes a loud choking sound.

I ignore him.

The estate stretches behind us in pale stone and glass, perched high above the Pacific with terraced gardens falling toward the cliffs. Kane and Hannah chose it because it felt private without being theatrical.

Then they let me handle security.

Now it could survive a siege.

No guest phones.

No smart watches except cleared medical devices.