Chapter 232
Kara
"I don't know. You two, obviously. Why? Is there a traditional number?"
"Not exactly," Sophia said, exchanging a glance with Emma. "It's just... we heard a rumor. About you maybe asking some other people?"
Understanding crashed over me. "You heard about Anna and Sol."
Blake's growl was immediate. "Absolutely not."
"Blake—"
"They kidnapped you," he said, voice rough with fury. "They held you prisoner—"
"They saved my life," I interrupted, voice rising. "At the end, when it mattered, they chose to help me instead of Diana. They're the reason I made it out alive."
"They're the reason you were in that building in the first place!"
"That's not fair," Cole interjected quietly. "Kara's right—they were victims too. Coerced, threatened, trapped."
"That doesn't excuse—"
"This isn't our decision," Asher cut in firmly. "It's Kara's wedding. Her choice."
Tense silence fell. I could feel Sophia and Emma's discomfort, their worry about how this would look.
And I understood. Understood Blake's anger, Asher's reservations. But I remembered Anna's broken apology, Sol's trembling hands passing me the knife. Their bruises, their terror, their desperate hope that maybe I could save them too.
"I want them there," I said quietly. "Not as regular bridesmaids—I know that's too much. But as honor attendants. A way to acknowledge they helped save me, even if they hurt me first."
"Kara—" Emma started.
"They're under guard. Dmitri's people are watching them. They're not a threat. And having them there, publicly showing I can extend mercy—isn't that what a Luna should do? Show there's always a path to redemption?"
Sophia's expression shifted as she processed this. "You want to make a statement. Show the pack you're not some scared girl, but a Luna who understands justice and mercy."
"I want to honor the people who helped me. But yes, if it sends a message about the kind of Luna I'll be... I'm okay with that."
Emma bit her lip. "It's going to cause talk. People are already gossiping about everything—your background, the kidnapping, the pregnancy."
"Let them talk. I'm tired of living based on what others think."
"But we'd be the regular bridesmaids, right?" Emma asked, something vulnerable in her voice. "Like, Sophia and I would still be your main people?"
The question caught me off guard. They'd risked befriending me when I was nobody. Of course they'd want confirmation they mattered.
"Of course," I said warmly, taking Emma's hand. "You two are my best friends. The first real friends I ever had. Anna and Sol—that's different. They'll be there because I owe them a debt, because I believe in second chances. But you're there because I love you."
Emma's eyes went shiny. Even Sophia looked moved.
"Well," Sophia said, voice slightly unsteady, "I suppose we can work with that. Honor attendants for the controversial former kidnappers, regular bridesmaids for us. Though we need to coordinate dresses—I'm not wearing anything that clashes."
Despite the tension, I smiled. Trust Sophia to reduce a moral question to color coordination.
"I think we can manage that. Though we should ask Anna and Sol first if they even want to participate."
"They'll want to," Cole said quietly. "The chance to be part of something positive, to be publicly acknowledged as having helped instead of hurt? They'll jump at it."
He was probably right. They'd spent years trapped in Diana's organization, doing terrible things because the alternative was death. This would mean everything.
"Okay," I said. "Four bridesmaids total. Sophia and Emma as primary, Anna and Sol as honor attendants. We'll need security—"
"Obviously," Blake muttered, still radiating disapproval.
"And we'll make the distinction clear," Sophia added, making notes. "Different dresses? Same color family, different styles?"
"I like that. Emma?"
Emma nodded, still worried. "As long as you're sure. We just don't want you hurt again. By anyone."
The fierce protectiveness made my chest tight. These girls had appointed themselves my guardians, decided I was worth defending when I'd had nothing to offer.
"I'm sure," I said firmly. "I need to do this. For them, but also for me. To prove I can be the kind of Luna who doesn't just demand respect through power, but earns it through compassion."
"Very noble," Blake said, tone making it clear he thought otherwise. "And very you. But just so we're clear—they step one toe out of line, and the deal's off. I don't care if it's the wedding day, I'll personally remove them."
"Blake—"
"He's right," Asher said, ice-blue eyes serious. "We support your decision. We'll respect your choice. But our first priority is keeping you safe. If we perceive any threat, we'll act. Non-negotiable."
I wanted to argue. But looking at the three of them—Blake's rigid posture, Asher's calculating expression, Cole's gentle but immovable stance—I realized this was as much compromise as I'd get. They were letting me make this choice despite every protective instinct.
"Fair enough," I conceded. "Security in place, clear boundaries, and if anything seems off, we reassess. Does that work?"
Sophia and Emma exchanged glances. Finally, Sophia nodded.
"It works. Though I'm putting in writing that this was your idea when people start asking."
"Duly noted. Now can we please get back to flower arrangements? I have no idea what the difference is between a winter bouquet and a regular bouquet."
Emma lit up immediately. "Oh, it's super important! See, winter flowers are all about texture and contrast..."
As she launched into explanations, I felt the tension ease. Blake was still radiating disapproval but had settled back. Asher was typing what I suspected was a security protocol. Cole's hand found mine, squeezing gently.
Through the bonds, I felt their love, their worry, their determination to protect me even from my own compassion. It should have felt suffocating.
Instead, it felt like being held. Like being valued enough that people cared about my decisions, even disagreeing with them. Like belonging in a way I never had before.
"What do you think?" Emma asked, holding up photos. "The left has more greenery, but the right has silver accents that would match your ring..."
I studied them, genuinely trying to focus even as part of my mind processed what we'd just decided. The implications of inviting Anna and Sol, of making such a public statement.
"The one on the right," I decided. "It's beautiful. And I like matching the ring."
Emma beamed, making a note. Sophia leaned forward to examine my engagement ring—three ice-blue sapphires representing my mates, set in platinum.
"It really is gorgeous," she said wistfully. "Though I still can't believe you're getting married before me. I've been planning my wedding since I was twelve."
"Life's funny that way," I said, twisting the ring. "Six months ago, I was sleeping in a storage room and eating scraps. Now I'm planning a wedding and pregnant with triplets. If someone had told me..."
"You wouldn't have believed them," Cole finished softly. "None of us would have. But here we are."
Here we were. In a sunny room, surrounded by magazines and enthusiastic friends, planning a future I'd never dared imagine. With three mates who loved me despite my sharp edges. With friends who'd stood by me. With a pack slowly learning to see me as Luna instead of the debt girl.
It wasn't perfect. Hard conversations remained. Victoria and I had barely scratched the surface. My parents were still recovering. Dmitri was building a relationship with a granddaughter he'd just met. And Anna and Sol would cause friction for months.
But for the first time, I had resources to handle it. Support, love, stubborn determination from people who refused to let me face anything alone.
"Kara?" Emma's voice pulled me back. "You okay? You zoned out."
"I'm fine," I said, meaning it. "Just taking it all in. This is a lot."
"Too much?" Sophia asked, immediately concerned. "We can take a break."
"No. I want to keep going. I just needed a moment to appreciate how surreal this is. In a good way."
Blake's hand found my shoulder, warm and grounding. Through our bond, I felt his understanding—he knew how overwhelming good things could be after years of nothing.
"Take all the moments you need," he said quietly. "We've got time."
And looking around—at my mates, my friends, the scattered evidence of a future being planned—I believed him. For the first time, I had time. Had choices. Had freedom to build the life I wanted.
It was terrifying and exhilarating and more than I'd dared hope for.
It was mine.
"Okay," I said, straightening. "Show me everything. I want to see it all."
As Emma flipped to the next section, enthusiasm infectious even as Sophia provided dry commentary, something settled in my chest. Not quite peace—I wasn't sure I'd ever fully achieve that. But something close. Something like the beginning of healing, of moving forward instead of just away.
The planning continued, punctuated by debates over centerpieces and Blake's grumbles about the guest list. Through it all, I participated fully, making decisions, claiming my place.
And when afternoon sun began to slant through the windows, I looked around at the people surrounding me and thought: This. This is what home feels like.
Not a place. Not a building or territory or pack.
But this—the people who chose to stay. Who chose to love me, fight for me, build something beautiful even when it would have been easier to walk away.