Chapter 1

I got his call while the engagement hall was already full.

Calder Rhys, my fiancé of three years, had cancelled our ceremony overnight — to escort his fallen packmate's sister to the hospital.

My brother Drew grabbed my arm, his jaw tight.

"Neva, call it off. We're not sitting here to be laughed at."

"Calder doesn't show — that's his loss."

I looked at the slideshow still running on the reception screen. Our photos. My white dress. His uniform.

I smiled at nothing in particular.

"We're not calling it off. The food's already ordered."

"Call it an early Christmas dinner."

---

The hall went quiet when I said that.

My parents' faces were unreadable, but they didn't argue.

They moved through the room, guiding relatives to their seats, filling the silence with small gestures.

I stepped down from the platform and went table to table with my glass raised.

No one mentioned Calder. No one asked what had happened.

They said happy holidays and congratulations and drank when I drank.

I drank a lot.

By the end, my stomach felt like I'd swallowed embers.

Drew held me steady, his eyes red at the rims.

"Was it worth it, Neva?"

I set my glass down. "There's no worth it. There just is."

We said goodbye to the last guests. The hall emptied until it was only family.

My mother finally broke. Tears ran down her face before she could stop them.

"How could he do this to you?"

My father rubbed her back. "She knows what she's doing."

I checked my phone. No new messages. No missed calls.

Calder had called in the afternoon. His voice carried no guilt, the same flat tone he used to issue orders.

He said Lila Voss had sudden appendicitis. She needed to be transferred for surgery immediately.

He said he was her only family. He had to take her himself.

He told me to cancel the ceremony and explain things to the guests.

He said it the way he issued orders on the field.

I asked him one question: "An appendicitis? Our Pack Medical Center can't handle that?"

I was a field surgeon at that center.

I could perform that procedure in my sleep.

A pause on the line.

Then one sentence.

"She's scared."

He hung up.

She was scared.

Lila Voss, the younger sister of Logan, his packmate who died beside him in the field.

The girl he had sworn to protect for the rest of his life.

She was timid. Fragile. Couldn't stand the sight of blood.

"She is my responsibility." Calder said it so often it had become a second nature to him.

So because she was scared, our engagement ceremony could be cancelled.

Because of one word from her, three years of waiting could be unmade.

I opened my phone. Lila had just updated her social feed.

A photo.

Calder sat at the edge of her hospital bed, head down, carefully peeling an apple. His profile was focused. Calm.

The caption read: With my brother here, I'm not scared anymore. Wishing everyone a safe and happy holiday.

In the corner of the photo, I could see his phone on the nightstand.

Screen lit. A game open.

He had time to play. Not to send me a single word.

I closed my phone.

"Drew," I said. "Take me home."