The Wolf Who Came Home

An hour to go before the wedding.

I sat at the vanity, staring at my phone—endless photos of Grace and me, crammed together in a grid of memories. My chest gave a sharp, ugly twist.

None of them were overly intimate. Just her arm looped through mine, or her head tipped against my shoulder, laughing. Street corners we'd wandered, sunrises we'd watched, subway cars we'd squeezed into. Most of them were snapshots, nothing posed.

But in every single one, her eyes sparkled like they'd caught starlight.

I flicked back to her message from half an hour ago:

Thorne, I'm sorry—I can't let Fred die with regret. It's just a ceremony, just to give him that one last wish before he goes. After it's over, you and I will get our papers sorted. You understand, don't you?

A year ago—hell, a month ago—if Grace had asked me to hand over my own wedding because Fred's cancer diagnosis came in on the big day, I would've been gutted. Torn apart.

But now I'm leaving. Going back to my pack.

To a world they'd call "primitive"—where wolves haven't blended into human society, where nothing runs on electricity or Wi-Fi. Before I go, I want to learn as much as I can. Take it all back with me. There's too much to absorb, and no time left to bleed over what's already dead.

The makeup artist pushed the door open just as I was adjusting my tie in the mirror.

"Looking good today, sir," she chirped. "You don't seem like a groom at all—more like you're heading off on vacation."

I gave her a polite nod. Tried to smile. Didn't quite make it.

The man in the mirror wore a crisp white tux. His features were carefully composed—steady, calm. Only the faintest red at the corners of his eyes gave away something he'd rather keep buried.

Ten years.

Ten years since I'd followed Grace into the human world, wearing roughspun rags, jumpy as a stray dog, terrified of everything. Now I could swipe through a smartphone with one thumb, hold my human form for days on end, dress like I belonged. I'd gotten used to it all.

Except for Grace. She was the deepest mark this world had left on me. And right now, the hardest thing to let go of.

"Darling? You ready?"

Her voice came through the door—soft, but with a tremor underneath.

I pulled in a long breath and pushed it open.

She stood there in white lace, beautiful as a painting. But those eyes that once held stars—they wouldn't meet mine.

Next to her, a pale man in an identical white tux. Fred. Her childhood friend, the one who'd been there long before I ever showed up.

"Thorne… thank you," Fred said, voice thin and weak. "I know this isn't fair to you, but—"

"Don't." I cut him off, my gaze fixed on Grace. "I know the wedding rundown. You two follow the schedule. If you need anything from me, just ask."

A pause. Then, flat and quiet: "If he makes you feel more secure after I'm gone, I don't mind."

Grace's composure cracked. Her voice went sharp with panic. "Gone? Thorne—where are you going?"

Before I could answer, Fred cut in. His tone dripped with mock pity, but his eyes—those were pure sneer.

"I knew it. I knew I made Thorne upset. I'm sorry, Grace—you should go comfort him. After all, in this day and age, he's got no one but you."

He coughed delicately into his fist.

Grace yanked him into her arms, her eyes swimming with tenderness.

But his words had done their job. They reminded her: Thorne didn't belong here. Without her, where could he even go? He was just throwing a tantrum because he was jealous—pathetic, really.

Her expression curdled with disgust.

"Thorne! I knew you'd pull this again! I told you—it's just a gesture for Fred, one wish before he dies. Do you have to make such a scene about it?!"

She let out a sharp laugh. "Fine. If you're so set on leaving, leave. Let's see how far you actually get."

I stood there, frozen. A cold draft snaked through the window, biting into my skin.

Watching the two of them walk away, I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

Just a gesture for Fred, she said. But that fresh red mark on her neck, Grace—was that also just a gesture?

Whatever.

Two more days. That's all. Then I'm out.

Same destination. Same plan.