The Wedding

The morning of the wedding dawned clear and golden.

I woke before the sun, lying still in Alistair's arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Today, we would become husband and wife. Today, I would bind myself to him in front of everyone.

No fear, I told myself. Only joy.

Alistair stirred, his arm tightening around my waist. "You're awake."

"Have been for a while."

"Nervous?"

"Happy," I said, echoing the word from the night before. "Happy-terrified."

He smiled and kissed my shoulder. "Same."

We lay there for a while longer, not speaking, just holding each other. Then the sun rose higher, and the sounds of the pack house stirring reached us.

Time to begin.

---

The next few hours were a blur of preparations.

Sonya helped me into my dress—white silk and silver thread, with a train that flowed behind me like a river. My hair was braided with small white flowers, and around my neck hung the gold necklace Alistair had given me at the gala.

"You're beautiful," Sonya said, stepping back. "He won't be able to speak."

"He never has trouble speaking."

"He will today."

I looked at myself in the mirror. The woman staring back was not the same Clara who had crawled through the mud three years ago. She was stronger. Braver. Loved.

Mom, I thought, I hope you're watching.

---

The ceremony was held in the clearing behind the pack house.

Hundreds of chairs had been set up, each filled with wolves from near and far. The great hall had been too small; the entire pack, plus guests from allied territories, had come to witness the union of the Hidden Luna and her Alpha.

Flowers lined the aisle—white roses and bluebells, my favorite. The sun filtered through the trees, casting everything in a warm, golden glow.

I stood at the edge of the clearing, waiting for my cue.

No one was walking me down the aisle. My father was dead, Derek was gone, and I had no family left to give me away. I would walk alone.

And I was fine with that.

The music began—soft, melodic, played by wolves on strings.

I stepped into the aisle.

Every head turned. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I kept my eyes forward, fixed on Alistair.

He stood at the altar, wearing a black suit with a silver tie, his hair combed back. His eyes were gold—bright, blazing—and his hands trembled at his sides.

When I reached him, he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

"You're not so bad yourself."

Margot, the eldest elder, presided over the ceremony.

"Wolves," she said, her voice carrying through the clearing, "we gather today to witness the union of Alpha Alistair Blackwood and Clara Vance, the Hidden Luna. Their bond was fated by the Moon Goddess, but it has been forged in blood, fire, and choice. Today, they choose each other. Today, they become one."

She turned to Alistair. "Alpha, your vows."

Alistair took my hands. His voice was low, steady.

"Clara, before I met you, I was dead. Not physically—my heart still beat, my lungs still breathed. But I had no purpose. No hope. I spent my days punishing myself for a past I couldn't change." He swallowed. "Then you walked into my office, wearing a stained skirt and too much courage, and you told me you were my new assistant. You weren't afraid of me. You weren't impressed by me. You just... were."

Tears welled in my eyes.

"I fell in love with you slowly," he continued. "Then all at once. And I will spend the rest of my life proving that I deserve you. I vow to protect you, to cherish you, to stand beside you in every battle. You are my mate, my wife, my home."

He slid a silver ring onto my finger.

I took a shaky breath. "Alistair, when Derek rejected me, I thought I would never be loved. I thought I was worthless. Broken. Unworthy of happiness." I squeezed his hands. "Then you kissed me in the back of a car, and you said the kiss wasn't a mistake. That was the moment I started believing again."

His eyes glistened.

"You're not easy to love," I said, and the crowd laughed softly. "You're stubborn, brooding, and you have the emotional range of a brick wall sometimes. But you're also kind, and brave, and you make me feel like I can do anything. I vow to love you even when you're difficult. I vow to fight beside you, to heal you when you're broken, and to remind you every day that you are worthy of love."

I slid a ring onto his finger.

Margot smiled. "By the power vested in me by the Moon Goddess and the combined packs, I pronounce you mates. You may kiss."

Alistair cupped my face and kissed me—deep, tender, full of promise.

The crowd erupted.

---

The reception lasted late into the night.

There was dancing and music and food. Wolves shifted and ran through the forest, howling their joy. Alistair and I sat at the head of the long table, watching our pack celebrate.

"You did it," Sonya said, raising a glass. "You actually did it."

"We did it," I corrected.

"To the Alpha and Luna!" Marcus shouted.

"To the Alpha and Luna!" the crowd echoed.

Derek was not there.

I scanned the crowd, hoping to see his face. But he was still gone. I tried not to let it dampen my joy.

Alistair noticed. "He'll come back."

"I know."

"When he does, we'll welcome him."

I leaned into Alistair's shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being patient. With him. With me."

He kissed my hair. "Always."

---

Later, when the guests had gone and the clearing was empty, Alistair carried me across the threshold of his—our—penthouse.

"We're married," I said, laughing.

"We're married," he agreed, setting me down gently.

He kissed me, and I melted into him.

"I have one more gift," he said, reaching into his pocket.

"Another one?"

He pulled out a key. Not a house key—something older, heavier. Bronze, with an intricate wolf design.

"What is it?"

"A key to the art studio I promised you." His smile was soft. "It's in SoHo. I bought the building last week. The top floor is yours. Paintbrushes, canvases, everything you need."

Tears spilled down my cheeks. "Alistair..."

"You said your dream was to open a studio. I want you to have that dream. Not someday—now."

I threw my arms around him. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too." He held me close. "Now let's go to bed. We have a honeymoon to pack for."

---

The honeymoon was in Italy.

We spent two weeks eating pasta, drinking wine, and making love in hotels with views of the Mediterranean. We visited ancient ruins and modern art galleries. We laughed more than we had in years.

On the last night, we sat on a balcony overlooking the sea.

"I don't want to go back," I admitted.

"Me neither." He took my hand. "But we have responsibilities."

"I know."

"Clara." He turned to face me. "When we get back, things will be busy. Packs will call on you. Enemies may resurface. But I need you to remember this. This moment. Us."

"I will."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

We watched the sun sink below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

---

We returned to New York to find a letter waiting.

Not from Derek. From someone else.

The envelope was black, with no return address. Inside was a single sheet of paper, covered in elegant handwriting.

"Congratulations on your wedding, Hidden Luna. You have defeated Viktor. You have claimed your mate. But the game is not over. There are those who believe the Hidden Luna's power should belong to all wolves, not just one pack. We will come for you. Prepare."

There was no signature. Only a symbol—a wolf's head, howling at a crescent moon.

Alistair read the letter over my shoulder. His jaw tightened.

"What is this?" I asked.

"An old symbol," he said quietly. "The Order of the Crescent Moon. They're extremists. They believe the Hidden Luna should be shared among all packs—by force if necessary."

"How do you know about them?"

"They tried to recruit me years ago. I refused." He took the letter from my hand. "They're dangerous, Clara. They have resources. Spies. Witches."

I looked at the symbol, then at Alistair.

"We just got married," I said.

"I know."

"I wanted peace."

"I know." He pulled me close. "We'll handle this. Together."

---

That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

The letter sat on the nightstand, its black envelope like a stain on our happiness.

We will come for you.

I didn't know who they were or what they wanted. But I knew one thing: I would not let them take what I had built. My mate. My pack. My life.

I reached for the golden light inside me. It pulsed, strong and steady.

Let them come, I thought. I'm ready.

Beside me, Alistair stirred. "Can't sleep?"

"Thinking."

"About the letter?"

"And about the future." I turned to face him. "Whatever comes, we face it together."

"Together," he agreed.

He kissed me, and for a moment, the darkness faded.

But it would return.

It always did.