The priestess cleared her throat, her voice gentle but cautious. “Perhaps we should give him a bit more time—”
“No,” I interrupted quietly, though my voice trembled slightly. “It’s alright.”
Slowly, I lowered the bouquet, watching as the pale petals brushed against my shaking hands. I could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze—curiosity, sympathy, confusion—all pressing down on me. The once-warm hall suddenly felt too vast, too empty, too cold.
Without another word, I turned and walked down the aisle alone. The sound of my heels striking the marble floor echoed sharply, each step sounding louder than the last, like a cruel reminder that I was leaving without him.
When I stepped outside, the cold wind wrapped around me instantly, sending a chill across my exposed shoulders. My wolf stirred uneasily, her distress rippling through me.
He wouldn’t do this. There had to be a reason.
I clung to that fragile belief as I moved forward, trying to silence the growing dread inside me.
Then I noticed the crowd gathered across the street.