After breakfast, I’m told in a very casual manner that Luna Cersei and Beta Evelyn had orchestrated that me and Yvanna visit a bridal shop together without so much as a word of consultation with me. I don’t like the idea, but I must pretend how thrilled I am to be shopping with an actress in a high-end shop. So I maintain my facade of calm and compliance, offering a serene smile to them. Dwight and I arrive at the shop. The bell above the door tinkles as we step inside. As I scan the area, my eyes land on Yvanna, who’s already engrossed in a conversation with a saleswoman, her laughter tinkling like chimes in the wind. Beside her stands Hugh, his tall frame towering over her petite form, his eyes never his phone in his hand, not even making an effort of glancing at his bride-to-be. The moment Yvanna and Hugh realize that me and Dwight are already here, Yvanna quickly clings to Hugh's arm like a vine desperate for support, her fingers trailing possessively over his sleeve as if mark

The wedding preparations are a whirlwind of activity, a blur of decisions made in haste, as if time itself is impatient for the union to be solemnized. I find myself disinterestedly swept along in the tide of planning. The theme is decided upon with little input from me. ‘Vintage elegance,’ they call it. I nod along as my never-will-be-mother-in-law discusses color schemes and decorations with the wedding planners, my mind elsewhere - Hugh and his last message to me, ‘I love you. We’ll get through this. I promise’. I don’t know what he’s planning to make that happen, but I have mine which I’m nervous but determined to do. The venue is also chosen—a grand ballroom in a historic mansion on the outskirts of town. I barely glance at the ornate chandeliers or the sweeping staircase as Dwight and I tour the space, his hand intertwined with mine and sometimes touching my back or the curve of my hip. Flowers are selected with meticulous care, each bloom chosen for its symbolism and signi

HUGH’S POV: The air hangs heavy with tension as I face the intense gaze of an enraged Dwight. The question echoes in my mind like a relentless drumbeat: Where is Anastasia?! Anxiety gnaws at my insides. Silence is all I can respond ‘cause I don’t know where Anastasia is myself. In the midst of the suffocating silence, a fragment of memory surfaces in my mind – Anastasia's text message etched with determination: I won't marry him. Did she mean to escape? Was that her plan all along? Relief mingles with guilt as I welcome the uncertainty surrounding her and Dwight's impending wedding. But alongside it simmers a potent mixture of apprehension and remorse. Anastasia has entrusted me with her words – trust me – and now I can’t help but wonder if I have failed her. I know, deep down, that Anastasia is more than capable of handling whatever challenges come her way. Yet, the thought of her facing them alone, without my protection, makes me furious at myself and apprehensive for her well

I reach out, my hand steady as it brushes against Anastasia's cheek. "Anastasia, I want to be with you, to love you fiercely and unconditionally, without anyone or anything standing between us. And I’ll make that happen, I promise." She smiles, unshed tears shining in her hazel eyes. Before she can respond, I lean forward, my lips capturing hers in a tender kiss that speaks of promises yet to be fulfilled, of dreams waiting to be materialized. As we part, a soft smile plays upon my lips, my gaze has an intensity that matches the fire burning within my soul. But disappointment comes to me after acknowledging the fact that our desires aren’t achievable… just not yet.With a heavy heart, I gently take Zachary from Anastasia and say, “We gotta go. Yvanna is waiting. The longer I stay here, the more I’ll give them reason to suspect me about your absence.”Anastasia nods, drying her eyes. “I understand. Be careful.”“I will.”Driving through the city streets, my mind races with thoughts

DWIGHT’S POV: I prowl with the simmering fury of a tempest about to break. My lupine form, muscles rippling beneath my black fur, echoes the storm raging within me. Hugh, a cousin turned betrayer, stands opposite me with a snarl etched on his muzzle. Anastasia, my reason for existence,... I’m sure he stole her and is hiding her, no matter how much he denies it! The betrayal cuts me to the core, leaving a raw, gaping wound that festers with each passing moment. I can't bear the thought of Hugh's dirty hands on her, his scent mingling with hers!As we circle each other, growls rumbling low in our throats, my mind churns with thoughts of vengeance - to kill! I’m desperate to tear Hugh apart, to rend flesh from bone until there’s nothing left but a memory!Just as I prepare to launch myself, the noise of the rain is suddenly overshadowed by the sound of hurried footsteps and panicked voices. My attention flickers towards the intrusion, and there they are - the pack, rushing to Hugh's a