I lay in bed staring at the empty space beside me—the place where Xavier should have been if everything had unfolded the way it was meant to. The pillows remained untouched, the blankets smooth and cold. Outside, rain fell relentlessly, tapping against the windows like quiet sobs. It felt as though even the Moon Goddess mourned alongside me.
By the time dawn broke, I had already given up on sleep. I sat alone in the garden, wrapped in a thin shawl, watching droplets cling to the roses as the early morning air brushed against my skin. My wolf remained restless, uneasy.
I sensed him before I saw him.
His scent drifted toward me—oakwood and smoke, sharp yet achingly familiar. My chest tightened despite myself, my heart responding in a way I wished it wouldn’t.
Xavier stepped into the garden moments later.
He looked slightly worn, but otherwise unaffected. His clothes were casual, his dark hair tousled as though he hadn’t bothered to fix it. When his eyes met mine, I searched desperately for something—remorse, guilt, anything.
There was nothing.
“Brielle,” he began, his voice calm. “About yesterday…”
A soft laugh escaped me, though there was no humor in it. “You mean about the wedding you didn’t attend?”
He frowned faintly, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for things to happen that way. But a child’s life was in danger. You have to see my side—weddings can be rescheduled, but when a pup’s life is at risk, there’s no second chance.”
A bitter laugh rose in my throat before I could stop it. My heart felt like it was being torn apart. So, in his mind, saving that child erased everything else—leaving me waiting before the Moon Goddess, humiliating me before the entire pack.
Still, I only nodded faintly. “You’re right.”
His shoulders visibly loosened, as though my response relieved him. “I knew you’d understand.”
Of course he did.
I had always been the understanding one. The calm, patient Luna-to-be who never caused trouble, who swallowed her pain and smiled through it.
His gaze shifted toward the mansion, and before I could question him, a familiar scent reached me.
Honeysuckle and rain.
Victoria Blackwell stepped into view, a small boy holding tightly to her hand. The child glanced around curiously, his wide eyes taking everything in.