3. I Object

Valerie

The knock on my door came exactly when I knew it would. I'd been going back and forth with Sebastian over his plan to crash Chelsea’s wedding. When he wouldn't listen, I’d actually practiced ignoring him over the past three weeks, letting his calls go to voicemail, responding to his texts with single words or not at all. It was pathetic how much effort it took to create even that small distance between us, because of how every ignored message felt like denying myself oxygen.

But the knocking at my door persisted, and I knew Sebastian well enough to know he’d just keep at it until I gave in.

Finally, I opened the door.

Sebastian looked like hell. His hair was disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed and wild, his usual careful composure completely shattered. He pushed past me into my apartment without waiting for an invitation, pacing my small living room like a caged animal.

“I’m going to do it,” he announced, spinning to face me with manic energy radiating off him in waves. “I’m going to stop the wedding.”

My stomach dropped. “Sebastian…”

“I know what you’re going to say again.” He held up a hand, cutting me off. “I know it sounds crazy. I know it’s probably a terrible idea. But Val, I can’t just let her marry someone else. I can’t just stand by and watch the love of my life…”

“She’s not the love of your life,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I’d intended. “That woman doesn't love you, don't you get it? She’s made it clear over and over that she doesn’t want you.”

“She’s just confused,” he insisted, and God, the desperation in his voice made my chest ache even as it infuriated me. “But if I can just talk to her, if I can just make her understand how much I love her…”

“You’ll what? Convince her to leave her fiancé at the altar?” I crossed my arms, trying to inject some reason into this conversation. “Sebastian, she’s building a life with someone else. You need to let her go.”

“I can’t.” His voice cracked, and suddenly he wasn’t the future alpha, the confident leader everyone expected him to be. He was just a man in love with someone who didn’t love him back, and despite everything, despite the three weeks of trying to build distance, despite the humiliation at the club, my stupid heart still broke for him.

“I’m going to the wedding,” he said, his jaw setting with determination. “I’m going to object when they ask if anyone has a reason they shouldn’t be married. I’m going to tell her how I feel, give her one last chance to choose me. And I need you there, Val. I need you to come plead with me.”

Every rational cell in my brain screamed at me to tell him this was a disaster waiting to happen, that he was going to humiliate himself and probably traumatize a church full of people in the process. That I couldn’t watch him make a fool of himself over Chelsea one more time.

But there was another voice, quieter and more insidious, whispering different things. This is it, the voice said. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. Chelsea is going to reject him publicly, definitively, and finally, he’ll have nowhere else to turn. He’ll see that you’re the one who’s been there all along. He’ll realize that the mate bond was right, that you’re meant to be together.

This is your moment.

“I’m not going,” I heard myself say, even as that hopeful voice inside me screamed in protest. “This is a bad idea, Sebastian. You’re going to get hurt, and I can’t… I can’t watch that again.”

His face fell, genuine pain flickering across his features. “Please, Val. I can’t do this without you. You’re my best friend. You’re the only person who understands…”

“If I’m such a good friend, then listen to me when I tell you this is a mistake.”

“You know what, I’m going with or without you.” His voice hardened, taking on that alpha tone that brooked no argument. “I’d rather go with you, but I’ll do it alone if I have to. This is happening, Valerie. I’m fighting for the woman I love.”

I looked at Sebastian’s desperate face, at the manic hope in his eyes, and felt something shift in my chest. Not breaking, I was too familiar with that sensation by now. This was different. This was a door closing. Or maybe opening. I couldn’t quite tell which.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll go with you.”

**

The Grand Lumière Hotel was exactly as pretentious as its name suggested, all marble columns and crystal chandeliers and the kind of aggressive elegance that screamed money. Chelsea’s family had money, old money, the kind that came with expectations and social standing and a very specific idea of what was acceptable.

Dating a werewolf had never been part of that acceptable list. I’d never understood what Chelsea was doing with Sebastian in the first place, except maybe slumming it for the thrill before settling down with someone appropriate.

Someone like Jonathan David Prescott, whose name was printed in elegant script on every surface of this overpriced venue.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked Sebastian for the hundredth time as we approached the grand ballroom where the ceremony was being held. He was dressed in his best suit, looking every inch the alpha heir he’d been groomed to be. I was wearing a simple blue dress, deliberately understated. This wasn’t my day. This was Sebastian’s last stand, and I was just here to pick up the pieces when it inevitably fell apart.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said, but his hands were shaking slightly as he adjusted his tie.

We slipped into the back of the ceremony just as it was starting. The ballroom had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale. At the front, Jonathan stood waiting, looking exactly like the kind of man Chelsea’s family would approve of. Handsome in a bland, nonthreatening way. Successful, human and safe.

And then Chelsea appeared, and even I had to admit she looked beautiful. Her dress was stunning, her makeup perfect, her smile radiant as she walked down the aisle toward her future husband. She looked genuinely happy in a way I’d never seen her look when she was with Sebastian.

I glanced at Sebastian and saw his face crumble. He’d been holding onto some fantasy that Chelsea was making a mistake, that she was settling, that she secretly still loved him and just needed him to fight for her. But looking at her now, even he couldn’t deny the truth: she wanted this.

The ceremony proceeded with painful slowness. Readings about love and commitment from people who probably had no idea Chelsea had spent the last five years stringing along a werewolf while she figured out what she really wanted. Vows exchanged in voices loud enough to carry to the back where we sat. Jonathan promising to love and cherish Chelsea. Chelsea promising the same.

And then: “If anyone has any reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

It was a formality. No one ever actually objected. It was just a traditional phrase that…

Sebastian stood up.

The movement was so sudden, so unexpected, that several people gasped. All eyes turned to the back of the room, to the tall, handsome man in the expensive suit who was staring at the bride with desperate intensity.