Desmond POV:
The wedding was supposed to be the event of the decade.
The cathedral was filled with white roses. The pews were packed with dignitaries from every major pack on the West Coast. The air smelled of expensive perfume and anticipation.
I stood at the altar, adjusting my cufflinks. My hands were shaking.
"Stop fidgeting," Antone whispered from beside me. He was my Best Man, though he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. "You look like you're facing a firing squad."
"Where is she?" I asked.
"Chelsea is coming. The limo is five minutes out."
"Not Chelsea," I snapped. The growl ripped out of my throat before I could stop it.
Antone stiffened. He knew who I meant.
Dallas.
It had been three days since the yacht incident. Three days since I watched her walk out of the hospital, her small figure wrapped in a grey blanket, looking like a ghost.
I hadn't called. I couldn't. Chelsea had been 'fragile,' demanding my constant attention, waking up screaming from nightmares about drowning. Every time I tried to check on Dallas, Chelsea needed water, or a back rub, or reassurance that I loved her.
But the silence from Dallas was deafening.
Usually, even with the rejection, I could feel a faint hum. A sense of her existence. Like a radio station playing softly in another room.
Today, there was nothing. Just static.
"She's gone, Des," Antone said quietly. He looked down at his shoes. "Father said the plane landed in Seattle two days ago. The transfer is complete."
"She should be here," I muttered, pacing a small circle. "It's tradition. The pack members are supposed to witness the Alpha's union."
"She's not pack anymore," Antone reminded me. "We made sure of that."
The organ music started. The heavy oak doors at the back of the church groaned open.
The guests stood up.
I looked down the long aisle. I expected to see Dallas standing in the shadows at the back, watching me with those big, sad eyes. I wanted her to be there. I needed her to see this, to know that I was doing this for the pack, not because I didn't want her.
But the back of the church was empty.
Just the ushers.
Chelsea appeared, walking down the aisle on her father's arm. She looked beautiful. Perfect. The ideal Luna.
But as she got closer, the scent hit me.
It was cloying. Too sweet. Synthetic.
My wolf paced inside my head, agitated. Not her. Not Mate.
I tried to push the beast down. Shut up, I told it. This is for the billions. This is for the territory.
Chelsea reached the altar. She took my hand. Her skin was soft, but there was no spark. No electricity. It felt like holding a mannequin's hand.
"Dearly beloved," the officiant began.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again. And again. A sharp, insistent pattern used only for pack-wide emergencies.
"Desmond," Chelsea hissed through her smile. "Turn that off."
But a cold dread was pooling in my stomach. It wasn't a normal text vibration. It was the emergency pack alert.
I pulled the phone out, ignoring the gasp from the front row.
It was a notification from the Pack Registry Database.
USER REMOVED: Dallas Cole.
STATUS: Pack Affiliation Transfer Complete.
NEW AFFILIATION: Simmons Pack (Seattle).
ROLE: Mate/Luna.
The phone slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the marble floor.
The echo rang through the silent church.
"Desmond?" Chelsea asked, her voice trembling.
"She did it," I whispered. The words felt like ash in my mouth. "She actually did it."
"Who?"
I looked at Chelsea, but all I could see was the empty space where Dallas should have been.
"She married him," I said, my voice rising. "She married the cripple."
"So what?" Chelsea snapped, her patience fraying. "She's gone. Good riddance. Now put the ring on my finger."
A sudden, sharp pain pierced my chest. It wasn't physical. It was the metaphysical severing of hope. My wolf threw back its head and let out a howl of pure, unadulterated misery inside my mind.
She belonged to another Alpha now.
I looked at the altar, at the priest, at the woman I was supposed to marry for power. And for the first time, I realized exactly what that power had cost me.
"I have to go," I said.
"What?" Chelsea shrieked.
"I have to go!" I roared. The Alpha Command slammed into the first three rows, forcing people to cower.
I turned and ran. I ran down the aisle, past the stunned guests, past my furious father. I burst out of the church doors into the sunlight, gasping for air, clutching my chest.
But the emptiness remained.
Dallas was gone. And she had taken my soul with her.
