Chapter 137

ELENA

The morning of the wedding dawned soft and golden, sunlight pooling over the Moonstone gardens like a blessing.

I stood behind Erin, steadying her veil as she fidgeted nervously with the delicate lace. “Hold still,” I murmured, smoothing the fabric one last time. My fingers were steadier than I expected.

Maybe because I needed to be. Erin kept glancing at me in the mirror, her eyes shining too brightly for it to just be the makeup.

“You’re my good luck charm today,” she whispered. “The real Luna.”

I froze for a beat, my hands still caught in the folds of her veil.

The real Luna.

I tucked a loose piece of hair behind Erin’s ear and smiled, even though my chest pinched a little. “You’re going to be beautiful out there. You already are.”

She beamed, and for a moment, I let myself soak it in—the warmth of it, the belonging.

A flicker of memory rose unbidden. My own wedding planning, years ago. Standing in the Silverclaw packhouse’s cold little meeting room, surrounded by checklists and endless details.

How even Derek’s mother, when she had visited, only helped in short, distracted bursts before finding reasons to leave. How I had sat alone one night, floor littered with flower samples and binding spells, feeling invisible. Replaceable.

“This would be easier with a Beta,” I had whispered back then, the words heavy on my tongue.

Now, watching Erin—surrounded, supported—I felt both pride and an old, gnawing ache.

But I wasn’t alone anymore. I had people now. Friends. Family.

I kissed Erin’s cheek and handed her the bouquet. “You’re ready.”

The ceremony began just as the sun tipped into late afternoon. The gardens filled quickly with the pack: elders with their silver-streaked hair braided neatly, young warriors in pressed shirts, children tumbling under the lantern-strung trees.

I moved among them, ushering people into their seats, smoothing wrinkles from nervous bridesmaids’ dresses, giving Mason a nudge when he looked like he might bolt for the hills.

He was pacing just behind the tree line, fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket.

I caught his hand and squeezed. “You’ve got this.”

He blinked down at me, and for a second, all the bravado slipped away. Just Mason. Just my brother. Terrified and hopeful and about to leap into something huge.

“I know,” he breathed. “It’s just—she’s everything.”

I smiled and let him go.

I spotted Derek standing a few rows back, half-shadowed by the sway of the trees. Our eyes met—and for once, there was no smirk, no shield between us. Just a simple, open smile. A flash of something that felt warmer than the sun itself.

My heart gave a stupid, traitorous thud.

The music began to swell, a low, thrumming melody that tugged at something deep in my chest. I turned, watching Erin appear at the end of the aisle, her veil catching the dying light. She wasn’t nervous anymore. She was radiant.

When she and Mason met in the center, everything else faded away. Their vows were simple but fierce, spoken with trembling voices and wide, stubborn smiles. When Mason said “I choose you, Erin. Every day. Every storm. Every fall,” my throat closed up tight.

I didn’t even try to fight the tears.

The bond sealed with a burst of warm, golden magic that rippled through the gathered wolves, a pulse that vibrated in my bones. The pack howled in unison, a wild, joyous sound that lifted into the trees and seemed to set the very leaves trembling.

I wiped my eyes quickly, laughing under my breath.

It felt right. It felt earned. And gods, it felt good to stand there and celebrate love instead of mourning what was lost.

The party erupted almost immediately after the vows. Lanterns swayed, music soared, and tables groaned under the weight of food and drink.

I wandered among the crowd, catching glimpses of Derek here and there.

Helping Aiden wipe frosting off his cheeks after a cupcake explosion. Throwing his head back to laugh at some terrible joke from one of the pack elders. Reaching out, without even looking, to catch a tipping tray of drinks as a waitress stumbled past me.

There was no show to it. No posturing.

He was just… here.

Present. Steady.

It was terrifying how much I noticed.

At one point, Logan took the microphone, giving a polished, charming toast. His words were smooth as river stones, but something about the way he said, “The best bonds are the ones you fight for” set my teeth on edge.

I caught Derek’s jaw tensing, just for a second, before smoothing away again. He felt it too.

Something heavy and unsaid passed between us across the crowd.

The night spun on. Laughter, dancing, pups racing between tables, elders calling for another song.

And then came the inevitable cheer: “Bouquet toss!”

Erin, laughing breathlessly, turned and waved me toward the center of the clearing where the single wolves had gathered.

“Go on, Elena!” someone yelled.

I groaned inwardly. Wonderful. Nothing like a little public humiliation to cap the night.

I started moving, resigned—until a hand brushed my elbow.

I turned to find Derek standing there, an almost boyish tilt to his smile. “Come on,” he murmured, voice low so only I could hear. “Let’s skip this one.”

Before I could even form a protest, he took my hand—so casually, so naturally—and tugged me gently away from the throng.

We slipped between the tables, past the golden strings of fairy lights, and into the cooler shadows beyond the garden.

The air smelled like honeysuckle and woodsmoke. Crickets hummed. The lanterns looked like stars caught in the branches.

I shivered a little as the breeze kissed my bare arms.

Without a word, Derek slipped off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

It smelled like him: cedar and warmth and something deeper I couldn’t name.

I gave him a half-smile, tugging the jacket closer. “You trying to save me from public embarrassment again?”

“You looked like you needed a lifeline,” he said, amused. “Besides, we’ve done enough dancing for five weddings.”

I snorted. “You’re not wrong.”

I sipped the wine I still held, feeling strangely light. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like the world was pressing in. It just… was.

Above us, the moon finally peeked out from behind a cloud. I opened my mouth to say something else—but the words never made it out.

A sudden, sharp pressure slammed into my chest.

I gasped, clutching at the front of Derek’s jacket. My lungs refused to open. Panic surged.

“Elena?” Derek’s hands caught my shoulders instantly. His face was alarmed—and then a second later, he staggered too, his balance wavering.

“I—something’s—” My voice barely rasped out.

A sickening pulse rolled through the clearing, a wave of nausea and icy dread.

The trees stilled.

The music faltered.

Even the air felt wrong—too thick, too silent.

Inside me, Nox thrashed and howled in panic. My wolf didn’t understand what was happening—only that it was bad. Wrong.

“Elena—!” Derek’s grip tightened on me, and he stumbled to one knee, pulling me with him.

I felt like some force, some awful, gnawing pressure trying to wedge itself between us, clawing at the invisible thread that tied us together.

I gasped, clutching at him blindly, trying to anchor us both. “Don’t let go!”

His hands found mine, fierce and desperate. His face was pale, drawn tight with strain.

“I won’t,” he gritted out. His wolf flared under his skin, close enough that I could feel Erebus’s fury crackling between us. “Hold on, Elena.”

Tears blurred my vision. It hurt. Gods, it hurt. Like knives driving between ribs that weren’t meant to separate.

I could feel a magic working—could see the ghost of a dark, pulsing thread weaving into the air around us. Twisting. Tightening. Trying to sever.

Not just hurt.

Break.

I gasped again, harder this time. I reached deeper, past the terror, past the hurt—into the thread itself. Into the bond that wasn’t just a mark or a spell or some damned political convenience.

It was him.

It was me.

It was every choice we’d made, every second we hadn’t given up.

And someone was trying to sever it in two.