LOGAN
I hated weddings.
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Not because of the music or the crowds or the endless barrage of small talk from wolves I’d only ever spoken to once. I hated them because of what they promised–forever A concept that sounded so clean, so simple when wrapped in white linen and wine glasses, but in reality?
Forever was bloodstained. It was
promises broken under full moons. It was love used like a weapon.
But none of that showed on my face.
I stood near the head of the long, winding Moonstone garden path, where the rehearsal dinner was being set up under strings of soft golden lights. The air buzzed with cicadas and laughter.
We were just on the edge of dusk, the first stars peeking out over the pines. The tables were already half–filled with guests.
The elders were seated toward the front–stiff–backed and watchful. The younger crowd lingered near the drink station, where Mason had insisted on hiring a mobile whiskey bar.
Elena walked in like she belonged here. Like she’d always belonged. She had.
She wore pale green tonight, something soft and silky that caught the light and shimmered with every step she took. Her hair was down, loose waves that danced in the breeze.
I watched her laugh at something Erin said, tucking a stray lock behind her ear as she leaned in to adjust the table cards. Mason was beside them, murmuring something, and he looked at her with a kind of grateful reverence that made my jaw tick.
They’d come through so much together. And maybe once upon a time, I’d been part of that circle. But lately… I’d been orbiting outside it.
“Elena,” I said, stepping up with my hands in my pockets.
She turned, startled. But not upset. That was a good sign.
“Logan,” she replied, her smile small but real. “You’re early.”
I shrugged. “Wanted to make sure no one poisoned the wine.”
She gave a soft laugh, then turned back to help Erin fluff the centerpieces. I didn’t offer to help. I knew better. Elena liked things a certain way, and I’d only get in the way.
So I stood there and watched her–watched the way her shoulders relaxed when she was focused, the way her face softened around Erin, the way Mason did annoyingly fraternal things.
And then Derek arrived.
Late. Of course.
Wearing that gold–buttoned shirt he always pulled out when he wanted to look like he hadn’t tried.
His sleeves were rolled to the elbows. His hair still damp from the shower. Confident, commanding, and exactly the kind of wolf people turned to when things got hard.
He scanned the garden, then found her.
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I didn’t need to look at her to know what her face was doing–I could feel it in my chest. That flicker of joy that sparked when she saw him. Not the cautious kind she gave everyone else. No, this was unguarded. Warm.
He walked over, murmured something low, and she reached for his hand. Just a subtle touch. A squeeze. But I saw it. The pulse of something between them–unshakable.
I looked away.
There was a time when she used to light up like that for me
The rehearsal began just after sundown. The garden lights cast a golden haze over the clearing, and the soft rustle of dresses and chatter filled the space.
We lined up according to the plan Mason had rehearsed in his obsessive Alpha–bridegroom way. And when it came time to pair up the Maid of Honor and Best Man-
Elena’s arm slipped into mine.
“Guess it’s us,” she said lightly, glancing up at me.
Her scent hit me first–bergamot and jasmine. And underneath it, something familiar. A trace of moonlight. The ghost of what we used to be.
“Try not to trip over your own ego,” she added, teasing.
I smirked. “Only if you promise not to throw your bouquet at my face.”
We walked together down the aisle path, and for the first time in what felt like months, it was easy. Natural. She wasn’t holding back. She wasn’t angry. At least not on the surface. There was laughter in her voice, even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
We stood at the front, waiting while the rest of the wedding party lined up.
Then it was Aiden’s turn.
He came barreling down the aisle with a tiny white pillow in his hands, his bowtie crooked, cheeks flushed with excitement. Derek crouched beside the path, coaching him like it was a battle drill. “Slow down, little man. Focus. You got this.”
Aiden beamed. “Like a ninja, right?”
“Exactly. A ring ninja.”
The crowd cooed. Wolves laughed. Someone snapped a photo. Derek ruffled his hair like the proudest father alive.
And I-
I stood there.
Silent.
Fuming.
Because that was supposed to be me. I was supposed to be the one coaching Aiden. I’d been there when he was born. I’d held him in the hospital, promised Elena I’d protect them both. I’d caught him when he took his first step, fixed his skinned knees, kept the rogues away.
But none of that mattered. Not now.
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And it probably never would again.
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The dinner was a formal affair. Plates clinked. Glasses sparkled. A soft quartet played in the corner while servers brought out grilled venison, roasted root vegetables, and clonamon–glazed apples.
I didn’t touch my wine.
I watched.
Toasts began after the dessert–a rich, layered berry tart with cream so thick it melted like butter.
The Moonstone Alpha stood first. His voice was strong, proud, full of authority. The Luna followed with something sweeter, more sentimental.
Mason gave a speech that started with a joke about Erin’s obsession with timelines and ended with him choking up mid–sentence. Erin wiped away tears with a cloth napkin, then kissed his cheek.
Then it was Elena’s turn.
She stood gracefully, glass raised, and told a story about the first time she realized Mason loved Erin–when he canceled a long–awaited hunting trip just to bring Erin soup when she had a cold.
Laughter. Applause. The kind of warmth that filled your ribs and made you forget the world was at war.
And then Derek rose.
He didn’t even need to say anything. The crowd quieted.
His voice was low and clear. “Love,” he began, “doesn’t always come the way we expect. Sometimes it shows up in the ashes. After the fires. After the heartbreak.”
I knew who he was talking to. Who he was looking at.
Elena.
“Love holds you accountable. Love makes you want to be better. And sometimes… sometimes, you don’t realize what a second chance means until you’ve already wasted your first.”
Elena’s glass trembled. She was looking at him like she could see the whole world in his face.
Like she was already halfway in love again.
I stood.
Muttered something about needing air.
And left.
***
The edge of the garden was quiet, shadowed by cypress and spruce. My phone buzzed in my pocket before I even thought to call.
Cassandra.
I hit the green button, putting it to my ear as I turned away from the lights.
“She’s not pulling back,” I said, voice tight. “She’s leaning in.”
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A pause. Then her voice, cool and sharp. “Then we stop the subtle stuff.”
I waited.
She didn’t hesitate.
“We do something real.”
I closed my eyes.
I thought I knew what that meant.
And I had no intention of stopping her.
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