Chapter Fifty-Five

The pounding at the door was enough to set my teeth on edge.

“I said, we'll be right there!” I bellowed.

This was the third time the jerk had banged like he wanted to knock the door off its hinges.

“The wedding is going to start any minute!” he shouted.

Yeah, no kidding. And I was about ready to jump out of my skin from nerves. Aimes finished straightening his bowtie before zipping up the back of my purple sapphire dress. I had no idea where my gown had come from, but somebody had altered it to fit me.

And Aimes… Well, of course he wore a tux. Holy. Bookstore. God. The sight of him slicked my inner thighs, and if it weren’t for my desert-dry mouth and the impossible knots tied in my stomach, he would already be naked by now.

Judging from his manic pacing, he wasn’t the only one with frayed nerves.

“I can't do this,” I whispered, shaking my head, wrapping my arms around my trembling body. “I can't.”

“Stop telling yourself that.” He stepped toward me, taking my face in his hands, and touched his forehead to mine. “I have complete faith in you. So does my wolf. And we both know you'll find a way.”

“Your wolf didn't happen to give you any hints on what I should do, did he?”

The guard pounded on the door again.

Think, think! I had to kill him. Dad or not, it all came down to this.

Yes, if I couldn't manage it, we would have to run—again—but no way would Annecy let us get away forever. I knew deep down inside Aimes had to understand that running away tonight wouldn't be the same as escaping for good.

But he’d try. I knew that, too. He’d put himself in harm’s way if it came to that. I had to find a way to keep things from getting to that point.

He went to the door and flung it open, arguing with the guard while I nonchalantly checked for the steak knife hidden up my sleeve.

My only weapon. Our only chance.

We walked down the sweeping staircase in silence, and when Aimes took my hand, I made it a point to slide the inside of my wrist along his so he could feel the knife in my sleeve. Our eyes met, and his lips twitched. His wolf's approval radiated from him, warming me inside.

After stepping outside for the first time in days, I took a deep breath of fresh air…and immediately sensed the apprehension all around me.

Aimes sensed it, too, and growled softly. “I didn't think it would be like this,” he muttered, and the disgust in his voice couldn't have been clearer.

On the surface, there was nothing to be disgusted with. We had stepped into a real-life fantasy within the courtyard, something more beautiful than Annecy’s renderings could ever convey.

The furtive glances and tight, almost pained smiles told another story. Most had to know what would eventually happen once the wedding was finished.

I even recognized some of the mingling guests as members of Stride’s pack who'd been around during the Full Moon Games, including Jenny and Sloan, two of the three final contestants. They were too busy fidgeting to make eye contact with me.

Everyone knew this wasn't how things were supposed to go, that Annecy hadn't even been a participant. They knew something was wrong with the way this was unfolding, that they couldn't stand up and say anything about it. Or they were afraid to.

Because Annecy’s army was full in attendance, armed to the teeth, and practically itching for violence.

“You're sitting up front,” we were informed, led down the aisle between rows of chairs.

Rose petals were strewn on the ground, and the elaborate arch over the spot where vows would be exchanged was covered in fairy lights, peonies, roses, and all sorts of fragrant flowers that might’ve been lovely and whimsical under different circumstances. Now, this felt like a funeral.

Overhead rigs were set up around the arch and cast a bluish-white glow over the stage. The gorgeous contrast of the artificial light with the deep, dramatic sunset behind the arch would’ve taken my breath away if I hadn’t already stopped breathing.

We were directed to the second row, directly behind the place where family would normally sit. Annecy was that determined for me to kill him.

I adjusted my sleeve, making sure the handle of the knife was hidden.

Just in time, too, since no sooner had we sat down than a half dozen guards emerged into the courtyard, forming a protective circle around none other than Connolly himself.

My dad.

I managed to push back the denial I couldn't quite shake—denying it wouldn't get me anywhere. Besides, now that I was looking at him through different eyes, I couldn't help but spot the faint resemblance. For so long, I wondered how I managed to share almost no real similarity with my mom, or rather the woman who I thought was my mom. Now, I understood I had his nose, his jaw, even his ears.

It wasn't just the physical resemblance, either. Something stirred in my chest when our gazes met, and the flicker of light behind his eyes told me we were thinking along the same lines. Did he know I knew? Even if he didn't, something told me he would pretend otherwise. Always playing games, this guy.

“It's nice to see you again, Harlow.” He couldn't resist the opportunity to sound like this big event was all his idea.

Like he was the host. Like he had even a scrap of control over anything going on.

I held myself to a faint smile, and suddenly, the knife felt painfully large and obvious. “I'm sure it is.”

Jessa, who trailed behind Connolly a few steps, locked eyes with her adopted son and smiled. The first one I might’ve ever seen on her. Aimes launched himself at her and lifted her off her feet in a tight embrace.

My eyes watered, my chest warming, and a sob caught in my throat. I missed my mom too. So much.

Aimes had barely said a word about how much he’d been worried about her, but he didn’t have to. I could feel it, same as I could see it right now.

They reluctantly pulled away from each other, Jessa wiping the smeared mascara from under her eyes, and Aimes returned to his seat next to me.

“Okay?” he whispered when he saw my tears.

I nodded, swiped them away quickly, and squeezed his hand.

Connolly and Jessa took their seats in front and to the left of us, guards I recognized from his pack sitting on either side while the others waited at the end of the row. How was I supposed to get anywhere near him while he was surrounded?

He turned his head slightly so he could look at me over his shoulder. “I imagine you now know the truth of who you are? What we are to each other?” he murmured, meeting my gaze.

“I understand a lot of things now,” I said. “And I have a lot of questions.”

“I imagined you would.”

“Can I talk with you about it after the ceremony?” I asked.

Too obvious? Could he hear the nerves in my voice? Maybe he could, but he could easily chalk it up to being apprehensive about addressing our real relationship. I could only hope that was true.

He frowned slightly, his brows knitting together, but there was no time to answer before the lights brightened on the stage. Connolly's head snapped around, and I knew I had missed my opportunity.

It wasn't like he could forget about me. We would have time after the wedding. So I hoped.

Was Annecy planning to commit the Alpha’s murder right there on stage, in front of everybody? Or were we at least going to have a chance to eat dinner first?

I couldn't believe I was actually thinking about it this way. Murderous weddings made me wish I had a leaf blower for the thoughts in my brain. No, scratch that. I wished I had a leaf blower for people.

Activity stirred on one side of the stage, and a moment later I could see why. Aimes’s sharp intake of breath rose over the mutterings and whispers around us.

When he made a move like he was about to jump out of his chair, I held him back, just barely.

“You can’t,” I whispered.

But even I could see why he wanted to.

I barely recognized Stride. He’d lost weight in only a handful of days, his once healthy, Photoshopped complexion now sallow and grayish. He was almost dragging his feet, which was a pretty far cry from the way he used to strut around with his head held high. Like nothing and no one could touch him.

Not so now. It looked like every step he took required concentration. He took a few stumbles to the left until it looked like he was going to fall off the stage if he kept going, but one of the men standing nearby—one of Annecy’s guards—stopped him in time.

“This is obscene,” Aimes muttered.

I stared at Connolly’s profile, whose stillness told me there was a lot going on under the surface that he didn't want to show. He looked like he was frozen solid.

From the other side of the stage came Annecy. A spotlight followed her progress as she strode slowly, solemnly. All around us came the expected “oohs” and “ahhs” at the sight of her. I couldn't pretend she didn't look stunning in her floor-length ivory gown, the delicate beads catching the lights and shimmering like stars. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in a complex twist studded with pearls, and her makeup was flawless.

She came to a stop in front of Stride, who swayed a little on his feet and blinked hard like he was trying to bring her into focus. He was so thin that his tux hung awkwardly, and dark circles marred the skin beneath his eyes.

It wasn't like I hadn't wished more than once for him to suffer, but that didn't make it easy to witness.

I clearly wasn't the only one who felt that way.

“What is this?” Connolly finally leaped to his feet, thrusting an arm outward and pointing to Stride. “This is ridiculous! What have you done to him? I won’t stand for this!”

Annecy wore a neutral expression when she turned to him, but I was close enough to the stage—and familiar enough with her—to see the coldness in her eyes. “It seems our distinguished guest has concerns. Maybe he ought to be removed from the courtyard so he won’t interrupt this sacred ceremony.”

“Sacred?” He barked out a humorless laugh. “You have twisted everything, turned this into a disgusting charade.”

“As I said, Connolly, you do not need to be present.” She looked over her shoulder to where a few of her soldiers were waiting.

They immediately hopped off the stage and surrounded Connolly, who sank back into his chair with no shortage of grumbling and muttered threats. They backed away, glaring and snickering at Connolly's personal guards like they were challenging them to try to do anything about it.

“Thank you all for being here,” Annecy called out, smiling like there hadn’t been any awkwardness. “This has been a day long in the making, and I’m so pleased you could be here to witness this. I know my mate feels the same.”

When she turned to Stride with a radiant smile, I could almost believe she meant it. It almost looked like she was nothing but a wolf in the thrall of her fated mate, excited to wed and complete their bond. Like she was looking forward to a future of ruling the pack by his side.

One of the women I remembered from Annecy’s camp stepped up holding a length of silk in her hands.

“The hand fasting is a symbol of your bond,” the woman explained, her voice solemn. “Once I’ve bound your hands, I will invite you to recite the vows confirming your commitment to your fated connection.”

Stride stared at Annecy, his eyes half closed, his mouth hanging partly open. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was drooling.

“He doesn’t even know where he is,” Aimes growled. “I can't sit here and watch this.”

“You know what will happen,” I warned him, squeezing his hand as tightly as I dared. “You can’t take that kind of risk.”

“You cannot force him into this against his will,” Connolly warned, his voice just loud enough for Annecy to hear.

But he wasn’t shouting anymore. The fight had drained out of him since it was obvious he was outnumbered.

Typical bully.

Annecy didn’t say a word, didn’t even acknowledge him. She simply reached out and took Stride’s hand, raising his arm until it was parallel to the floor and placing her own underneath it, supporting it.

The woman wrapped the silk around their wrists, binding them together, her hands shaking slightly like she was afraid of messing up.

Triumph glittered in Annecy’s eyes. “As the cord binds us, so does the moon,” she recited in a strong voice. “And neither time nor tide, neither man nor wolf, shall ever break what fate has brought together. This, I vow.”

“She might get him to say that,” Aimes muttered, “but how is she going to convince him to give her his wolf mark?”

As it was, it seemed like Stride had forgotten how to talk. “As…as the cord binds…”

His speech was slurred, and he frowned like he was concentrating on making his mouth work. But he stumbled his way through it with Annecy softly prompting him whenever it seemed like he was going to trail off and maybe fall asleep.

Discomfort rumbled around me as the attendees started cluing in to how weird and wrong this was. Not that anybody would do anything about it.

We were all in this together, watching a train wreck in slow motion.

I held my breath as the silk was unwound, and one of the guards had to physically move Stride until he was standing behind Annecy, who faced all of us with her head held high. There was defiance in her steady gaze, almost like she was daring anyone to protest, as she lowered one strap of her dress.

“I can’t believe this. They’re doing it right here?” Aimes growled.

“What?” I hissed.

They were going to fuck on stage so that Stride could give her his wolf mark and complete the bond? Nobody needed to see that, least of all me.

“This cannot be,” Connolly whispered, but it seemed very much like it was.

No matter how much he wanted to deny it.

As the guards helped him undress, Stride lifted his head, looking out over the attendees with those eerily unfocused eyes of his. Annecy smoothed the other strap down her arm, the dress still clinging to her. She wanted everybody to witness this, to see with their own eyes what was about to take place. That her role in the pack was impenetrable.

And that was when a shift took place within Stride. Not his wolf, but his first show of awareness, and then scorn.

He raised his hand, placed two fingers into his mouth, and blew out a shrill whistle.