Chapter 3

　　Nova's hand was tight around my wrist as we stepped through the pavilion gates.

　　The morning sun was too bright. It bounced off white roses and lilies lining the path—flowers I had chosen months ago when everything still felt possible. The petals looked almost mocking now, too perfect and clean. Soft strings drifted from the ceremony space, woven with low laughter and the delicate clink of champagne glasses. Guests in suits and dresses moved in small groups, heads tilted toward each other, smiling like today was perfect, like nothing could possibly go wrong.

　　My stomach twisted until it hurt. A sour wave rose in my throat. I swallowed it down.

　　Nova squeezed again, nails pressing into my skin through the thin fabric of my sleeve. "You sure?"

　　I nodded once. "I am sure."

　　We walked faster. My black sundress swished against my legs—simple, plain, nothing like the white lace that was now ruined and stained on a backstage floor. The hem brushed my calves with every step. Nova and two other friends flanked me like guards. Their faces were hard, eyes forward. They had heard the story last night in rushed, furious whispers over my kitchen table—every detail, every ugly word. They were angry on my behalf, and that anger kept my spine straight when my knees wanted to buckle.

　　The pavilion came into view. Cassian stood at the altar in a crisp black tux, golden hair catching the light with a sunny smile fixed in place. Waiting. Confident I'd show up. Confident I needed him too much to walk away. He looked exactly like the man I'd once believed in—golden, perfect, untouchable.

　　The crowd noticed us first. Heads turned slowly. Whispers started like wind through leaves… soft at first, then sharper, spreading fast.

　　Cassian saw me next. His smile froze, then turned into something ugly.

　　"Aria," he said, stepping down from the platform. Voice calm, like he could still control this. "You came."

　　The entire gathering went quiet.

　　I stopped a few feet away. I could feel every eye on me—werewolves mostly, their stares heavy and assessing, a few humans dragged along for show. And at the back, near the edge of the crowd, Damian Hawke stood with arms crossed, expression unreadable.

　　I didn't look at him long. Not after last night.

　　I faced Cassian instead.

　　"I came to make sure everyone knows exactly who you are."

　　His eyes flicked to the crowd—to his father—then back to me. "Baby, this is dramatic. We can talk privately—"

　　"No." My voice ended his. "You don't get privacy. Not after what you did."

　　I turned to the guests. Raised my phone and hit the play button.

　　The audio filled the place—shaky, but clear.

　　Cassian's voice, rough with lust: "She is just a means to an end. The bond will strengthen me. Make me look perfect in front of Father tomorrow. Once I secure the rank, I can keep you on the side as long as I want. She will never know."

　　Lyra's moan followed. Then his sneer: "Love a human? She is weak. Pathetic. Clinging to me like I am her savior. I am doing her a favor."

　　The recording ended.

　　Silence crashed down.

　　Then chaos—murmurs rising fast, shocked gasps spreading, a few low growls rippling through the pack.

　　Cassian's face went red. "That is a lie—"

　　I stepped closer. Close enough to see sweat bead on his forehead, to see the way his jaw ticked under the skin. "I heard it. I saw it. You fucked her in my wedding dress. On the floor. While you mocked me. You used me. For rank. For image. For your daddy's approval."

　　His jaw clenched so hard I heard the teeth grind. "You don't understand how pack politics work—"

　　"I understand betrayal just fine."

　　Before he could speak again, I slapped him.

　　His head snapped to the side. A red mark bloomed instantly across his cheek.

　　Lyra, near the front in pale pink, went pale. Her hand flew to her mouth.

　　I slapped him again—harder.

　　"For every lie," I said. "For every time you looked me in the eye and said you loved me."

　　Cassian's eyes blazed gold. He grabbed my wrist, fingers squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. "You will regret this, Aria. You have nothing. No money. No job. No one."

　　I yanked free, skin stinging where his grip had been. "I have my dignity. And that is more than you will ever have."

　　I turned to the crowd one last time. Voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.

　　"The wedding is off permanently. And if any of you think a human can't stand up to a wolf… think again."

　　Then I walked away.

　　Nova and the others fell in beside me. The crowd parted like water—some stepping back in shock, others staring with open mouths, a few whispering furiously behind their hands.

　　I kept my head high as I walked. Didn't look at Cassian. Didn't look at Lyra.

　　But as I passed the back row, I felt it—those gray eyes on me.

　　He hadn't moved or said anything.

　　Our gazes locked for half a second.

　　Heat flared low in my belly. Was it recognition? Or shame? I couldn't tell.

　　The memory of last night flashed—his hands sliding under my hoodie, palms hot against my bare skin, teeth grazing my neck, that low growl rumbling through his chest, the whispered words right before everything stopped: You have no idea who I am… do you?

　　My steps faltered.

　　His lips curved—just the smallest amount. Like he knew exactly what I was remembering. Like he could still taste me on his tongue.

　　My breath hitched.

　　I broke eye contact first.

　　And ran.

　　Out of the pavilion, down the path, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

　　I didn't stop until I was blocks away, chest heaving, tears burning hot down my cheeks.

　　Not tears of sadness.

　　Tears of rage.

　　And maybe a tiny, terrifying spark of something else that refused to die.