The Lycan's Stolen Bride

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

She stood there a long moment after he disappeared around the corner, staring down at her closed hand, heart still hammering unevenly in her chest.

She did not open her fingers to look at it properly until she was back in the privacy of the storage room that night, sitting on the edge of her cot with the door shut firmly behind her. The token was small, easily hidden in a closed fist, carved with a symbol she did not recognize, something like a wolf's head circled by a ring of stars. It was well made, clearly not something cheaply produced, the kind of object that likely carried weight wherever he came from.

She turned it over in her fingers, studying it in the low light, unsure what to make of it. She had denied him plainly, twice, and yet he had left this with her anyway, some quiet offer she had not asked for and was not sure she wanted.

For when you're ready to talk.

She was not ready. She doubted she ever would be, not with her own plans already forming quietly in the back of her mind, plans that involved slipping out of this house entirely long before anyone had reason to come looking for answers from her.

She tucked the token into the small bundle of her few belongings, hidden beneath a loose fold of fabric, and told herself firmly that it meant nothing. A stubborn man who refused to believe a simple denial. Nothing more.

She tried not to think about it again after that.

A week passed quietly enough. Callie kept to her routines, serving where she was told, staying out of the family's notice as much as possible, watching quietly from the edges of the household for any sign that the maid from that night had said something after all. Nothing came of it. No accusations, no sudden scrutiny beyond what Chase had already directed at her personally. She allowed herself to breathe a little easier as the days passed, though she remained careful all the same.

Then, one morning, she was summoned to the main sitting room again, the same tight knot of dread coiling in her stomach as she made her way there, half expecting another blow disguised as family business.

The room was full when she arrived. Her mother sat primly on the settee, practically glowing with excitement. Her father stood near the fireplace looking pleased in the reserved way he usually reserved for matters of family standing. Peter lounged in a chair nearby, and Rowena sat curled in her usual spot, positively radiant, clearly the center of whatever announcement was about to unfold.

"Callie," her mother said, waving her further into the room. "Come in. We have wonderful news."

Callie stepped inside, keeping her hands folded in front of her, waiting.

"The ceremony date has been set," her mother continued, practically vibrating with excitement. "Liam's pack elders have pushed for an earlier date than originally planned, something about aligning it with certain seasonal rites important to their tradition. It's all happening much sooner than we expected."

"How soon?" Callie asked carefully.

"Three weeks," her father said, clearly pleased. "Which means there is a great deal to prepare, and quickly. Invitations, decorations, arrangements with the caterers and the officiants. Everyone in this house will need to contribute."

Rowena practically preened from her chair, clearly delighted at the sudden urgency surrounding her ceremony. "It's going to be beautiful," she said, mostly to herself, running a hand along the arm of the chair like she was already imagining herself dressed for the occasion. "Everyone important will be there. All of Liam's family, half the pack elders from three territories, and several dignitaries besides."

Callie's stomach twisted at the thought of three weeks, far sooner than she had hoped to have for her own quiet plans. She had wanted more time, time to gather what little money remained accessible to her, time to slip away before anything more complicated tied her further to this house.

"You'll help with preparations, of course," her mother said, turning her attention back to Callie, her earlier warmth cooling slightly into something more businesslike. "Behind the scenes work. Managing supply deliveries, helping coordinate with the kitchen staff, whatever needs doing that the hired help cannot manage on their own."

"Of course," Callie said quietly.

"And on the day itself," her father added, voice firming into something more pointed, "you will stay out of sight entirely. Do you understand? This ceremony will draw important guests from across three territories. We cannot have you wandering about, drawing questions, embarrassing this family in front of people who matter."

"I understand," Callie said, keeping her voice as flat and even as always.

"Good," her mother said, some of her earlier brightness returning now that the uncomfortable part of the conversation had passed. "We'll need you especially reliable over these next few weeks. There is simply too much at stake to have anything go wrong."

Rowena's eyes flicked toward Callie with a faint, satisfied gleam, clearly pleased at the reminder that Callie would remain hidden away on the one day meant to showcase Rowena at her absolute best. "It really will be wonderful," she said again, mostly to needle at Callie now rather than out of genuine excitement. "Everyone will finally see what kind of Luna I'll make. Not that you'd understand what that feels like."

Callie said nothing, keeping her eyes carefully neutral, refusing to give her sister the reaction she was so clearly fishing for.

"That's enough, Rowena," their mother said absently, though there was no real reprimand in her tone, more distraction than genuine correction. "Callie, you're dismissed. Go speak with the kitchen staff about the delivery schedules. We'll need everything finalized by tomorrow evening."

"Yes, Mother," Callie said, and turned to leave the room, her mind already racing through the sudden shift in her timeline.

Three weeks. It was not as much time as she had hoped for, but it was still workable, still enough if she moved carefully and did not waste a single day. She would need to check on her account sooner rather than later, would need to quietly gather whatever small resources she could manage before the chaos of ceremony preparations swallowed every spare hour in the house.

She walked the hallway back toward the kitchen, mind turning over the details, when she nearly collided with someone rounding the corner from the opposite direction.

Chase steadied himself quickly, one hand briefly touching her shoulder to keep them both from stumbling, then withdrew it just as fast, clearly mindful of propriety even in the small accidental contact.

"My apologies," he said easily. Then, seeing the tightness in her expression, added, "You look troubled."