Chapter 2
Kaelen stopped three feet away from me, as if the white line painted down the runway were a border he could not cross. He was taller than everyone in the room and colder than the lights above us, black hair brushed back from a face that had made women forget their own names.
His eyes found the execution order on my phone. Silver flashed through their dark color.
"Leave with me."
His voice stayed level.
"You usually bring your bride when you say that."
"Mira."
He said my name like a warning and a prayer, which was irritating because I was supposed to hate him cleanly. I had spent three months practicing. I had hated him on trains, in fitting rooms, in the shower, and once while buying a sandwich that had not deserved the emotional violence.
"You expelled me from school."
I kept my voice steady.
"If this is your version of a breakup gift, I need you to know it is very on-brand. Expensive, controlling, and deeply disappointing."
"I did not sign that order."
"You signed the one that got me removed from the program."
His jaw tightened. That was answer enough.
The audience had gone quiet behind us, hungry for disaster. Kaelen noticed every raised phone, every guard waiting for a signal, every stranger close enough to hear. He always noticed danger before I did.
He never noticed that he was one.
"Come outside."
His voice stayed level.
"No. I have a wedding to ruin."
For the first time that night, his expression cracked.
"Do not go there."
"You announced it on every screen in Manhattan. It would be rude not to attend."
I walked past him before he could decide whether to stop me. He did not touch me. That was the worst part. Kaelen could have carried me out with one hand if he wanted to.
Instead, he let me leave.
By midnight, the Valenti plaza looked like someone had tried to marry a bank to a cathedral. White flowers climbed the stone columns. Council families glittered beneath crystal chandeliers. Elara stood at the far end of the aisle in the gown I had designed before I knew who it was for.
It fit her beautifully.
I hated that for both of us.
No one stopped me at the entrance. Kaelen's guards saw me and looked immediately toward their Alpha. He stood beside Elara in the suit I had cut for his shoulders, broad and immaculate, his face carved into the public expression of a man deeply in love.
I lifted a champagne glass to him.
He went still.
"Do you think she knows?"
I asked the guard beside me.
The guard wisely pretended to be deaf.
At the altar, the officiant began the old wolf vows. I waited until he reached the part about truth.
Then I snapped my fingers.
The bridal gown ignited.
Not Elara. I was angry, not stupid. The silk dress displayed on the ceremonial stand beside her erupted in a clean blue flame, a designer's fire spell that ate fabric and left skin alone. The crowd screamed anyway.
Above the plaza, the first crate of fireworks from Liuyang opened with a thunderous crack.
Gold wolves burst over Manhattan. Then the sky filled with thirty-foot projections of Kaelen Draven's alleged private history: a fake hotel bill, a fake love letter, and a dramatically edited photograph of him in a rhinestone jacket beside a forged registration for Manhattan's amateur tango championship.
I had made the evidence ridiculous on purpose. If I was going to lie about the man I loved, I wanted the lie to have tailoring.
The cards fell next, showering the guests in black-and-silver paper.
TEN THINGS KAELEN DRAVEN DOES AFTER MIDNIGHT.
Number seven was my favorite. It claimed he cried during operas and blamed the tenor.
Kaelen's temple jumped.
Elara looked at the card in her hand, then at me. To my surprise, she bit her lip to hide a laugh.
The officiant made the mistake of asking whether anyone objected to the union.
I raised both hands.
"Several thousand people, apparently."
Kaelen crossed the aisle before the final firework faded. He caught my wrist, not hard enough to hurt, hard enough that I felt the tremor he was hiding.
"Enough."
he said under his breath.
"You are right."
I looked up at him, smiling so hard my face hurt.
"Next time, I will rent a billboard."
His eyes darkened. For one impossible second, I thought he might kiss me, scream at me, or tell the whole plaza why he had destroyed my life.
Instead, he released me.
"Go to Milan."
His voice stayed level.
The music stopped. Somewhere beyond the chandeliers, my execution countdown kept ticking.
"What?"
"Leave New York tonight. Do not come back for me."
I stared at the man who had just married my stepsister and decided the last piece of my heart had finally learned how to die.