Tear the Alpha's Vow

Chapter 3 — Back to the Present

Diana drew a breath and came back to the present. The music still played, the chandeliers still shone, and guests still watched the head table for cues. She lifted her head and met Nicholas's eyes.

Nicholas leaned closer so only she could hear. “Diana, this is our day," he said. “No one matters more to me than you."

In her past life, those words had felt like a blanket. This time, she listened to the sound of his voice and kept her face calm.

“Nicholas," she said softly, “if Victoria is on that bridge, you should go to her."

He blinked, surprised. “You don't want me to stay?"

“I want you to have no regrets," she said. “If something happens to her, you will think about it for the rest of your life. Go. I'll be fine."

He studied her, as if trying to find the catch. There was none. Her tone was steady, almost gentle. He lowered his voice further. “Diana… I care about you."

“I know," she said. “Go."

Nicholas straightened. “I'll handle this and come back," he promised. He squeezed her hand once, then let go and turned to the doors.

People noticed. Chairs scraped. A path opened in the crowd as he left the hall.

For a heartbeat there was only silence. Then the room broke into talk all at once. “The groom is leaving?" “For that girl?" “On his wedding night?" Silver clinked against china as someone put down a fork too fast. One of the elder matrons smoothed her skirt and tried to smile like everything was normal. The smile did not convince anyone.

Several guests hurried toward the dais with anxious faces. “Luna, are you all right?" “Do you want water?" “Don't worry, the Alpha will fix it." Hands reached for her elbows and shoulders, soft and busy.

Diana stepped back from their touch. “Thank you," she said, “I'm fine." The words were simple and left no space for more fussing. The guests, unsure what to do with their concern, drifted away in clusters and whispered in the corners.

She followed Nicholas out.

The night air was sharp after the warm hall. Torches burned along the path to the river. The suspension bridge stretched over the gorge, a dark line marked by small lamps. Wind moved across the water and brought up the smell of wet stone. Voices from the far bank crossed the gap in pieces. Someone shouted “Careful!" and it broke into the rush of the river.

Diana kept to the walkway and didn't run. Running makes people stare. She passed guards who were trying to hold the watching crowd back from the bridge. She stopped where the ground dipped toward the first plank and looked out.

Victoria stood on the outer rail. She had kicked off her shoes. Her bare feet gripped the wet board. Her hands held the rope. Her dress blew sideways in the wind. She was crying, but her chin was up.

Nicholas was already on the bridge.

“Victoria," he called, voice even. “Look at me."

She turned her face. “Don't come closer." The words shook.

“I will come closer," he said. “But I will not grab you. I'm only here to talk."

Diana's heart beat in her throat once, hard, then steadied. She watched the distance, the angle of his body, the way the bridge swayed under his weight. None of it looked dramatic. It looked like a man moving with care because the floor could turn into air in one wrong step.

“Nicholas," Victoria said, “you married her."

“It's done," he said. “But you are not jumping. Not tonight." He went two boards closer. “Look at me."

She shook her head. “If I leave now, you'll forget me."

“I won't." Another board. His hands were open at his sides. “I won't forget you."

“Swear it."

“I swear I won't forget you." He took another step. “But you have to step back. Put one foot inside the rope. Then the other."

She didn't move. Her eyes flicked past him to the bank. She saw the faces. She saw the torches. She saw the gap that waited below all of it.

Wind shoved the bridge. Victoria's balance slipped. One foot slid on the wet board. Her knee bent outward.

Nicholas moved.

He closed the space in three quick steps. He did not shout. He did not look at the crowd. He lunged and caught her. One arm locked around her waist. His shoulder hit the rope. Wood shook and slammed back into place. Victoria's legs swung, then bumped the inner board. Her hands let go of the outer line and clutched his coat instead.

“I've got you," he said into her hair. “I've got you."

She sobbed once into his chest and nodded against him, small and hard, like she was agreeing to live.

Guards at the mouth of the bridge started forward. A senior warrior lifted his hand to hold them back. “Give them space," he said. “Let the Alpha move when he's ready."

Nicholas didn't move yet. He held Victoria close and waited for her breathing to settle. The crowd quieted. Even the river sounded farther away for a moment, though it kept throwing foam at the rocks like it always did.

Diana stood as still as the trees. The cold went through her dress and into her skin, but she didn't feel it much. She felt the shape of what was happening and set it next to the shape of what had happened in her last life. Here the shapes did not match. That was good information.

Nicholas spoke again, lower. “Put your feet flat. Good. Hold the inner line." He took a small step back, guiding her until both of her shoes were on the inner plank and her hip was clear of the drop. “We're going to walk to the bank. One board at a time. I'm not letting go."

“Don't," she whispered. “Please don't let go."

“I won't."

They started toward land. The bridge creaked with each step. The crowd breathed with them, a single slow inhale and exhale. Victoria kept both hands fisted in the front of his coat, like a child afraid of being left behind in a*****e. Nicholas tilted his body to shield her from the wind. A warrior on the bank took off his jacket and held it ready.

At the edge of the bridge, Nicholas eased Victoria onto the dirt, then stepped down after her. The warrior offered the jacket. Nicholas wrapped it around Victoria's shoulders and tightened it at the neck. She was shaking. He put his hands on her arms and rubbed warmth into them.

“You're all right," he said. “You're safe."

She lifted her face to him, wet and blotched from crying. “I'm sorry," she said. “I couldn't watch you stand up there with her and pretend it didn't hurt."

His expression changed. Surprise first. Then a tenderness that made the people closest to them look away, as if they had walked into a room without knocking.

“Don't do this again," he said, not harsh. “You scared me."

She nodded and tried to smile. “I won't."

“Good." He exhaled and pulled her into him. She went willingly. Her forehead fit under his chin. His chin rested on her hair. They stood like that and didn't speak. The scene drew a border around them that no one crossed.

Behind them, two male elders whispered to each other. “We should take the Luna home," one said. The other peeked at Diana's face and thought better of it. She did not look broken. She looked like someone accounting for details.

A few guests started to mutter about scandal and vows. The senior warrior turned and cut them off with a look. The muttering died.

Diana let the noise fade. She watched Nicholas and Victoria for three more breaths, then turned her eyes to the river. In the past life, by this hour, the water had a body in it and the pack had a story it would repeat for years. Tonight the water kept only itself. The pack would tell a different story. That, too, was useful.

Nicholas finally lifted his head. He checked Victoria's face for color and steadiness. “Can you walk?"

“Yes."

“I'll take you up the lower path," he said. “It's less steep." He glanced at the warriors. “Clear the crowd."

They moved to make space. People shuffled back and found other things to look at. The river took up its usual conversation with the rocks.

Nicholas looked once toward the path from the hall. For a second, his gaze met Diana's. He seemed ready to speak. She shook her head very slightly. Not here. Not now. Take her away from the edge. He understood. He nodded once in return.

He put his arm around Victoria again and led her toward the service track that curved along the bank. She stayed pressed to his side. He kept his body between her and the drop until the ground was wide enough for two people to walk without thinking about death.

The crowd began to break apart. People talked about the wind and how sudden the slip had looked. Someone said, “He moved so fast." Someone else said, “I thought she was gone." A young girl wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and told her mother she was glad the Alpha was a hero. Her mother shushed her and told her not to repeat that word in the hall.

Diana waited until Nicholas and Victoria disappeared behind the trees. She turned back toward the house.

At the edge of the path, a guard stepped aside to let her pass. He looked worried. “Luna, do you want an escort?"

“No," she said. “Thank you." She walked on alone.

The music reached her first, thin and brave from the open doors. Inside, the staff tried to fix what could be fixed. Candles were straightened. A cake knife was polished again even though it was already clean. The band changed to a softer song. The elder matrons practiced the smiles they would wear when the Alpha and Luna came back through those doors.

Diana stopped just inside the threshold and looked at the room. Praise still clung to the ceiling like steam. She thought of the words Nicholas had said to her at the table—our day; no one matters more than you—and she put those words next to what she had just seen on the bridge. The two things did not cancel each other out. They simply told her what kind of man he was when the room watched and when the world fell away.

She walked to the head table and picked up a glass of water. Her hand was steady. Lily, the maid with the light steps, appeared at her elbow. “Luna," Lily whispered, “are you—"

“I'm fine," Diana said. Then, because the girl's face was pale, she added, “Thank you for asking."

Lily nodded once, grateful for the answer and the extra words, and slipped back into the flow of the room.

Diana set the glass down, folded a napkin, and waited. She did not rehearse speeches. She did not make plans in front of strangers. She simply waited for the next move that belonged to her.

Outside, on the path below the upper lawn, Nicholas stopped with Victoria beneath the line of pines. He tilted her face up. “You scared me," he said again, softer. She put her arms around his neck and held tight. He held her back and did not look toward the house.

They stood there, close and still, wrapped in each other as if the rest of the world did not exist.

And that is where the night left them.