Chapter 77

Elara

The music was soft and sweet, drifting lazily over the twinkling lights strung across the open-air pavilion. Everything felt golden—the warm glow of lanterns, the hum of conversation over glasses of bubbly champagne, the faint crackle of the bonfire flickering in the distance.

But none of it compared to the way Alaric’s hand felt against the small of my back, guiding me across the dance floor with a quiet kind of certainty that made my heart ache in the best way.

I let my head rest against his chest, breathing him in.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Alaric murmured, his lips brushing the top of my ear as he spoke.

“Just taking it all in.”

He hummed softly, the vibration of it settling somewhere deep in my chest. “Satisfied with how everything turned out?”

I tipped my head back just enough to catch the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Satisfied feels like an understatement,” I replied with a tiny smirk of my own.

Somehow, this second wedding—our redo—felt even more surreal than the first. The intimacy of our original plans had given way to something grander, something bigger and more vibrant. It wasn’t just a ceremony anymore, and the reception was far more elaborate than the original one was supposed to be. It seemed that everyone from every pack from here to the coast had decided to attend.

And despite the weight of every eye on us, I couldn’t seem to care.

Not when Alaric was looking at me like that. Like I was the only person in the entire world.

His hand shifted, curling around mine, and he spun me gently beneath his arm, drawing a soft laugh from my lips as I twirled back into his chest.

“Do you regret expanding the guest list?” he teased.

I exhaled, letting my eyes drift over the crowd that had gathered around the edges of the dance floor. Zoe and Ella were happily stuffing themselves to the brim with cookies at one of the tables, while Annie and Clyde were chatting in the corner. And then there was Grace—poised rigidly by the exit, her lips pulled tight as she glared in our direction.

Her expression hadn’t shifted all night.

“Your mother looks like she’s in physical pain,” I mused, unable to keep the smile from tugging at my lips.

Alaric followed my gaze, his brows lifting faintly. “Maybe she is.”

“Should I be concerned about her plotting my untimely demise during the cake cutting?”

He laughed, and the sound made fresh heat bloom just beneath my skin. “Let her plot. It won’t make a difference. You’re my wife,” he said simply, and the weight in his voice sent a shiver through me. His hand splayed against my lower back, tugging me flush against him. “There’s nothing anyone can do to change that now.”

My chest tightened.

Wife.

The word felt surreal, even though we had gotten ‘married’ at the courthouse all those months ago. Our marriage was never even properly annulled after Sarah’s return, since her schemes were revealed so quickly.

I shuddered a little at the thought of Sarah, her screams still echoing in my mind. It had been over two months since that night, and those sounds still haunted me to this day. The moonwolves had gotten their revenge, that much was clear.

Alaric and I didn’t talk about it. We both preferred to keep that night buried in our hearts. Maybe someday, we would delve into it, once the bliss of our wedding had passed. But not now.

“I like the sound of that,” I finally admitted softly.

“Good,” he murmured, dipping his head to press a tender kiss to my lips, “because I plan on saying it as often as possible.”

Before I could respond, the music shifted, fading into something softer. Alaric slowed to a stop, his hand lingering in mine as he glanced toward the head table.

“Come with me.”

Curiosity flickered in my chest, but I let him guide me toward the small platform where he picked up a glass of champagne and tapped gently against it with the edge of a silver knife.

The room quieted almost instantly, all heads turning toward us as Alaric laced his fingers through mine.

“Before the night gets away from us,” Alaric began, his voice carrying easily over the crowd despite the large room, “my wife and I wanted to share some news.”

I felt my pulse quicken, but Alaric’s arm looped around me and drew me closer.

“We’re having a baby,” he said simply, his eyes never leaving mine.

For a second, no one spoke.

And then Grace fainted.

There was a collective gasp as she crumpled, collapsing into a random waiter’s arms with all the grace of a sack of flour. The tray of drinks balanced on the waiter’s free hand wobbled dangerously, and for a moment, he looked caught between catching her and saving the champagne.

Ultimately, he chose the champagne.

A bubble of laughter broke free from my lips before I could stop it, and I quickly clapped a hand over my mouth, but the damage was already done. The ripple of shock that had spread through the room was quickly swallowed by quiet chuckles and murmured congratulations.

Alaric’s grip on my hand tightened, his eyes lit up with amusement. “You couldn’t hold it in for even a second, could you?”

“I tried,” I whispered, leaning into his side. “She fainted so fast, Alaric.”

He shook his head, but I could see the faint tug of a smile threatening to break across his face. Grace was fine, really; we could both tell that she was faking it for attention. In fact, she was already climbing to her feet, fanning herself dramatically as if that would somehow hide the redness coloring her face over being seen for what she truly was: a big, dramatic liar.

But Alaric wasn’t done.

He lifted a hand, silencing the murmurs that still lingered at the edges of the room. Even I looked up at him with mild surprise.

“There’s one more thing,” he said, his voice lowering slightly. “I wasn’t going to reveal this until later, but now feels like the right time.”

I frowned, glancing toward him in confusion, but he only smiled softly before nodding toward the entrance.

The doors creaked open, and I felt the breath leave my lungs.

My mother stepped inside dressed in a golden gown, her eyes meeting mine across the room.

I didn’t move—I couldn’t move.

“As many of you know, the moonwolves were believed to be extinct,” Alaric continued, his hand steady on the small of my back. “But that isn’t the case. They were held captive for years—led by someone very dear to me and to my wife.”

My mother stepped forward, the soft glow of the lanterns catching in her silver hair.

“I’d like to formally introduce you to the Ambassador of the Moonwolves,” Alaric announced, his voice carrying across the room with quiet authority. “Elara’s mother: Lucia.”

Grace, in typical fashion, fainted again. But for real this time.