Chapter Five

SOFIA

The ivory lace of my dress catches the afternoon light as I smooth my hands down the fabric one more time. It's simple, elegant—a flowing A-line with long sleeves and a modest neckline. Nothing that draws attention, which is exactly what I need today.

I twist my hair into a low knot at the base of my neck, securing it with the silver pins that once belonged to my grandmother. My fingers tremble slightly as I fasten them, and I force myself to breathe.

My phone buzzes on the dresser. I glance at the screen and my jaw tightens.

Andrew: Sofia, please. We need to talk. I made mistakes. Come home.

I delete the message without responding, just like I've deleted the previous fifteen. Home. As if Moonridge was ever really home. As if three years of being treated like garbage can be erased with a few desperate texts.

Another message comes through immediately.

Andrew: The pack is asking about you. This makes me look weak. You're making me look like the Alpha whose mate rejected him.

There it is. The real reason he wants me back. Not love. Not regret for how he treated me. Just his precious reputation.

My fingers hover over the keyboard. Part of me wants to tell him exactly what I think—that he IS the Alpha whose mate rejected him, that he earned every bit of that shame. But I delete the half-formed message and toss my phone onto the bed.

He doesn't deserve even that much of my energy.

I grab my clutch and head for the door, pushing thoughts of Andrew aside. Today is about keeping a promise—to Kai, to Marcus. My brother had made me swear I'd attend Marcus's wedding, back when things were still normal. Back before I rejected Andrew and moved into this tiny cottage on neutral territory.

The cottage is small, tucked away where no pack can claim me. The rent eats through my savings, but it's worth it for the space to breathe. For the freedom to exist without constant judgment.

But living alone, packless, comes with its own problems. I catch the stares when I go into town—wolves trying to figure out what I am. I don't smell like a rogue, but I don't carry any pack marker either. I'm something in between, something that makes them uncomfortable.

Let them stare.

***

The venue takes my breath away despite my determination not to be impressed.

The ceremony grounds sprawl across manicured lawns that slope down to a crystal-clear lake. White silk drapes everywhere, catching the breeze. 

I park my beat-up sedan between luxury SUVs and sports cars that probably cost more than my cottage. As I make my way toward the reception area, I scan the crowd for familiar faces. Marcus’s wedding would draw mostly Royal Guard—active and retired—along with their families.

“Sofia Homes?” An older wolf in formal attire steps forward, his face lighting up with recognition. “Is that really you?”

I recognize him immediately—Commander Davies, retired from the Royal Guard five years ago.

“Commander Davies,” I manage, forcing a smile.

"Just Davies now." His grin is genuine, warm. "Three years and you haven't aged a day. I wasn't sure you'd make it."

More wolves are turning now, and I see the recognition spreading. These aren’t strangers—these are warriors who knew me when I was someone else entirely.

“Sofia?” A woman’s voice, surprised and delighted. “Oh my goddess, it IS you!”

Before I can respond, I’m pulled into a hug by Captain Torres, former Captain Torres—who served under me for two years.

“We thought—” She pulls back, her eyes searching my face. “When you disappeared, we thought you’d died. Or gone rogue. Nobody knew where you’d gone.”

“I just… needed a different life,” I say quietly.

The words hang in the air. Davies and Torres exchange glances, and I see the questions they’re too polite to ask. Why would someone walk away from the Royal Guard? Why vanish without a word?

“Well, you’re here now,” Davies says finally, tactfully moving past the awkwardness. “Marcus will be thrilled. Come on, let me get you a drink.”

Davies guides me toward the bar, and I accept a glass of champagne with a murmured thanks. 

“Sofia?”

I spin around. Marcus himself stands before me, looking handsome in his formal black suit. His mate—a beautiful wolf named Elena with glossy auburn hair—clutches his arm, her smile warm and genuine.

"Marcus." I manage a real smile. "Congratulations. Elena, you look stunning."

"Thank you for coming." Marcus pulls me into a brief hug. "Kai said you'd be here. Where is that bastard, anyway? He promised he'd make it."

My heart sinks a little. "He's not here yet?"

"Haven't seen him." Marcus glances around the crowd. "Knowing your brother, he probably got held up flirting with someone on the drive here. Or the mission ran longer than expected. You know how these border assignments go."

Elena laughs. "Or he's making some dramatic entrance. You know how he loves attention."

"Yeah. That sounds like Kai," I say with a slight smile. He's the only family I have left, and I'm looking forward to finally telling him everything that's happened.

"If he shows up," Marcus says, "I'm putting him to work. He owes me for missing the rehearsal dinner."

"Marcus, darling, your uncle is asking for you." A woman in an emerald gown interrupts, her smile apologetic. "Something about the seating arrangements."

Marcus grimaces. "Duty calls. We'll catch up later, Sofia. Don't let my family bore you to death with pack politics."

They disappear into the crowd, leaving me with Davies and Torres, who exchange knowing looks.

"The life you chose," Torres says carefully, "it's treating you well?"

The question is loaded with concern. I can see it in both their faces.

"I'm finding my way," I say quietly.

Davies nods slowly. "If you ever need anything—"

"I know." I squeeze his arm briefly. "Thank you."

An uncomfortable silence settles, and I seize the opportunity to excuse myself. "I should... I'm going to get some air."

I drift toward the edge of the reception area near the lake, champagne in hand, trying to breathe through the discomfort of too many memories, too many questions in familiar eyes.

Wolves in designer suits and couture gowns cluster in groups, their laughter bright and effortless. I catch fragments of conversation—mergers, territory expansions, and whispers about the new Alpha King being in attendance. 

His coronation photos circulated through every pack territory just months ago—ruthless, cold, powerful. The kind of Alpha who commands respect through presence alone.

The crowd shifts, and that's when I feel it—a pull, sharp and undeniable.

I look up.

Across the reception area, through the clusters of guests and swaying couples, a man stands watching me.

Even from this distance, I know who he is.

Arthur Slater. The new Alpha King.

He's tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a charcoal suit that fits perfectly. Dark hair, sharp features, and an aura of command that makes everyone give him space without realizing they're doing it.

But it's his eyes that hold me frozen—silver, piercing, seeing too much.

Our gazes lock, and the world narrows to just this moment. The mate bond slams into me like a physical force, stealing my breath. Heat floods my body, my wolf suddenly alert and awake in a way she hasn't been since I left Moonridge.

No.

His expression doesn't change, but something flickers in those silver eyes. Recognition. Certainty.

He feels it.

I break eye contact, turning toward the water, my heart hammering. My hands grip the champagne flute so tight I'm surprised it doesn't shatter. This can't be happening. Not now. Not with him. Not after Andrew.

I need to leave. Need to get out of here before—

"Sofia Homes."

The voice comes from directly behind me—deep, commanding, carrying an authority that makes my spine straighten instinctively.

I turn slowly.

Arthur Slater stands less than three feet away. Up close, he's even more imposing—raw power barely contained beneath expensive fabric and cold control.

"Your Majesty." I keep my voice steady despite my racing pulse. "Should I bow?"

"No." His gaze doesn't waver from mine, intense and unrelenting. "You're my mate. You bow to no one."

The casual certainty in his words, the absolute assumption, sends a jolt through my chest.

"I'm not your mate." I lift my chin. 

"Nah, you are.” He moves closer, deliberate. “You felt it. The moment our eyes met."

I can't deny it, so I don't try. "I rejected my last mate three weeks ago. I'm not interested in being claimed again."

"I'm not claiming you." His voice remains level. "I'm stating a fact. The Moon Goddess chose us to be together."

"The Moon Goddess can choose someone else for you." My grip tightens on the flute. "I'm done with bonds. Done with mates. Done with all of it."

"Why?" The question is direct, his gaze meeting mine. "Because Andrew Grafton was a fool who didn't deserve you?"

The accuracy stings. 

"Stay away from me." I turn to leave.

"I can't do that." His voice follows me as I weave through clusters of guests. "You're mine, Sofia. And I don't let go of what's mine."

I don't stop, don't look back. Just keep walking, weaving through clusters of guests toward the parking lot.

"I'm not yours," I call back without turning.

"Not yet." His voice carries across the distance—promise and challenge combined. "But you will be. The bond won't let you run forever."

I force myself to keep walking, to push through the crowd toward the parking lot. My whole body trembles with adrenaline and something else—something I don't want to name.

Behind me, I feel his gaze tracking my every step. Heavy. Inescapable.

The bond pulses in my chest like a living thing, stretching but not breaking as I put distance between us.

I make it to my car, my hands shaking so badly that I drop my keys twice before getting the door open. 

But even as I drive away, even as I put miles between myself and that impossible man, his words echo in my mind.

You're my mate. You bow to no one.

The bond won't let you run forever.

The bond thrums in my chest, insistent and undeniable, refusing to fade even as the wedding venue disappears in my rearview mirror.

And some traitorous part of me, the part I've been trying to kill for three weeks, doesn't want it to.