“Yeah. And now watching her put herself in danger for pack business makes me want to lock her in our house and never let her leave. I suspect that’s what you’re feeling right now. Themate bond makes you want to protect her at any cost. Even if that cost is her freedom to make her own choices.”
The words hit too close to home. I’ve been fighting that instinct since the moment I recognized Sera as mine. The urge to control everything about her environment, to eliminate every possible threat, to keep her safe even if she resents me for it.
I stack the last of my documents. “She deserves better than that.”
“Good. Because forcing her hand didn’t work out well the first time, and doing it again would be stupid. The ceremony is tomorrow. You ready?”
Am I ready to marry a woman who still questions whether the mate bond is real or just supernatural coercion? Ready to watch her risk her life breaking a curse while enemies amass at our borders? Ready to become a husband when I’ve spent my whole life avoiding that kind of vulnerability?
“No. But we’re doing it anyway.”
Oren claps me on the shoulder once before heading for the door. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be hell.”
He leaves me alone in the war room with my maps and fears. I should go home. Check on Sera and make sure she’s handling the pressure. Should probably eat something that isn’t cold coffee and anxiety.
Instead, I pull out my journal and start writing. Documenting everything we’ve planned. Recording contingencies and backup plans, and all the ways this could fall apart. If something goes wrong tomorrow, someone needs to know what we tried and why.
The sun sets while I write. Shadows stretch across the room until I’m working by lamplight. My hand cramps fromgripping the pen too hard, but I keep going. Keep recording. Keep planning.
***
The ceremony site looks like a battlefield waiting to happen.
I arrive at dawn to find enforcers already positioning themselves along the perimeter. Wyn coordinates the security teams with the efficiency of someone who’s done this a hundred times. Ash works with the Hysopp witches to prepare the ritual space, and Evangeline directs the placement of various magical components I don’t pretend to understand.
The location itself sits at the border between the Grayhide and Llewelyn territories. Natural rock formations provide defensive advantages, and the open space in the center gives us clear sightlines in all directions. If Thornridge comes, we’ll see them approaching.
When, not if. I’ve stopped pretending they won’t attack.
Oren finds me checking weapon positions for the third time. “Relax. We’ve got this covered.”
“Thornridge has fifty operatives out there. We have thirty enforcers and maybe a dozen Alphas. They could overwhelm us through sheer numbers.”
Oren scans the perimeter and replies, “We’ve got home territory advantage and motivation. They’re fighting for conquest. We’re fighting for survival. Big difference.”
Movement near the northern approach catches my attention. A group of wolves approaches—all female, all moving with the characteristic grace of Llewelyn warriors. At theircenter walks Matriarch Lydia, silver hair braided back and her face set in the neutral expression her pack favors.
“The Llewelyn delegation.” Oren straightens his posture and adds, “Time to play nice.”
We meet them halfway. Lydia inclines her head in formal greeting, and I return the gesture with as much respect as I can manage while my nerves scream at me to check on Sera.
“Matriarch Lydia. Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss my niece’s mating ceremony,” she replies.
I gesture toward the prepared ritual space. “Evangeline has everything ready when you are.”
Lydia doesn’t move. “Where is Sera?”
“With Raegan. They’ll arrive when the ceremony begins.” I keep my voice steady despite wanting to go find Sera myself. “As is traditional.”
“Traditional.” Lydia’s mouth quirks in something that might be amusement. “You’re marrying my niece to break a curse in front of hostile enemy forces, and you’re concerned with tradition?”
“Some things matter regardless of circumstances.”
She studies me for another moment before nodding. “Good answer. Come. I’ll introduce you to Sera’s family before they arrive and judge you without meeting you first.”
The Llewelyn delegation includes at least twenty wolves, most of whom regard me with varying degrees of suspicion. Lydia guides me to a cluster of three people standing slightly apart from the others.
