My Alpha Postponed Our Wedding, So I Changed the Groom

"Sloane, I need another year."

Callum's voice came through the communication crystal, low and tired. I stood in the fitting room of the bridal house with the gown half-laced up my spine.

"Another year," I repeated.

"There's an emergency at the eastern border. I have to stay in the territory tonight. Maybe all week."

"This is the fifth time, Callum."

"I know." He sighed, the way he always did when he wanted me to feel guilty for asking. "You know what this pack means to me. Just be patient a little longer, okay?"

The crystal went dark before I could answer.

I looked down at the paper in my hand. The healer's seal was still warm. *Pregnant. Six weeks.*

I had planned to tell him today. Right here, in the dress, with the seamstress pinning the hem.

The seamstress, an older she-wolf named Mrs. Dorran, poked her head through the curtain. "Everything all right, Miss Whitlock?"

"Fine," I said. "Give me a minute."

I wasn't fine. My hands needed something to do, so I opened the pack network on my crystal.

The first video on my feed made my stomach drop.

A fireplace. A kitchen I didn't know. Callum Blackthorn, Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, sleeves rolled to his elbows, stirring a pot of stew.

A woman sat at the table with a pup in her lap.

Around her shoulders was a deep red scarf.

My scarf. I had knitted it for a whole month during last winter's storms. I had stitched *C & S* into the corner with gold thread until my fingers bled.

The woman laughed and turned her face toward the camera.

Vivienne Hale. My half-sister. The girl who had smiled at our father's funeral while I cried.

"Callum," she cooed in the video, "say hi to everyone."

He didn't look at the camera. He bent and pressed a kiss to the pup's forehead.

His wrist turned toward the light. The thick silver scar on it caught the glow from the fire.

He told me he'd gotten that scar blocking a knife meant for me. He told me that story every time I doubted him.

The video was posted ten minutes ago.

Exactly when he'd said *emergency*.

"Miss Whitlock?" Mrs. Dorran's voice again. "Shall I bring the veil?"

"No." My voice came out strange and calm. "Bring me scissors."

"Scissors?"

"Please."

She handed them through the curtain without another word.

I stepped out of the gown and laid it on the floor. Then I cut.

First the lace sleeves. Then the bodice. I kept going, one strip at a time, until the white silk lay on the carpet like torn feathers.

I didn't cry. That surprised me most.

I thought about the abandoned hunting cabin seven years ago. The blizzard. Callum bleeding on the floor, hunted by a rival pack, drowning in debt, with half the elders ready to strip his claim. I had sewn his side shut with my mother's needle by candlelight.

I thought about the two pack celebrations I'd skipped because his business deals came first. About the proposal I'd turned down from a boy I grew up with. About the first baby I lost.

Callum had held me all night that time. *Never again, Sloane. I swear you'll never hurt alone again.*

I set the scissors down and scrolled through my contacts to a number I hadn't touched in seven years.

It rang twice.

"Hello?"

The voice was deeper than I remembered. Rougher.

"Rhys." My throat tightened. "It's me."

Silence. Then, carefully, "Sloane."

Rhys Ashford. Ten years ago, we were promised to each other under the Moon Goddess. Then his family was driven out of the North, and he was forced to leave with them.

"I'm sorry to call like this," I said.

"Don't be sorry. Are you hurt?"

"No." I pressed my palm flat against my stomach. "Rhys, my wedding is missing a groom. Will you come steal the bride?"

The line went quiet for so long I thought it had dropped.

Then he said one word.

"Yes."

---

Callum came home after midnight.

I was sitting in the living room of our villa with the lights low. He walked in without a word and wrapped his arms around me from behind, the way he had a thousand times.

The scent hit me first. A pup's milky sweetness. And under it, white roses.

Vivienne's perfume. She had worn it since she was fifteen.

"Long day?" I asked.

"Brutal." He rested his chin on my shoulder. "Border disputes, two elders fighting over grain contracts. I didn't even get to eat."

I almost laughed. He'd made stew.

"Poor thing," I said.

"I brought you something, though." He pulled a velvet box from his coat and opened it in front of me. A diamond necklace, heavy and cold.

I knew this necklace. Vivienne had posted it last month, with a caption. *Too flashy for me. Giving it away.*

"It's beautiful," I said flatly.

"I knew you'd like it." He started fastening it around my neck.

I caught his hand. "Callum. Where's my red scarf?"

His fingers stopped moving.

"Your what?"

"The red scarf. The one I made you. With our initials."

His eyes slid away from mine, toward the window. "Oh. That. I think I left it at the office."

"At the office," I repeated.

"Yeah. I'll grab it tomorrow." He kissed my temple, quick and careless. "Why? You worried I lost it?"

"Just curious."

He straightened and loosened his collar. "I'm exhausted, Sloane. I've got reports to finish."

"One more question."

He sighed. "What?"

"The wedding. Are we really pushing it back another year?"

His jaw tightened. "We talked about this."

"You talked. I listened."

"Sloane, come on." He rubbed his eyes like I was a headache. "A ceremony under the Moon Goddess is just a formality. Wolves who truly love each other don't need a date on a calendar."

Just a formality.

Seven years. Five postponed weddings. One lost baby.

A formality.

"You're right," I said softly.

He blinked. He'd expected a fight. Maybe tears. He didn't know what to do with a smile.

"Good," he said after a moment. "I knew you'd understand. You always do."

He walked into his study and shut the door.

I sat still until I heard the scratch of his pen through the wall.

Then I stood up and unclasped the diamond necklace. I dropped it on the couch cushion like a piece of trash.

I slid the engagement ring off my finger. It left a pale band of skin where it had sat for seven years.

In the bedroom, I pulled open the bottom dresser drawer. I pushed the ring all the way to the back, behind old letters and a dried flower crown from our first Moon Festival.

I closed the drawer.

My crystal buzzed on the nightstand. A message from an unknown number.

*I'm already on the road. Tell me the date, Sloane. I'll be there before the vows.*

Down the hall, the study door creaked open.

"Sloane?" Callum called. "Did you take your ring off?"