The Wolf I Buried

Chapter 13

A Promise Unkept

The photograph stayed on her kitchen table. Elena had moved it three times. Each time, she found herself putting it right back. As if some part of her feared it would disappear if she looked away for too long.

Sophia. Evelyn. Alaric.

Three smiling faces frozen in time.

Three people connected by a story Elena didn't understand.

The rain had finally stopped sometime during the night. Sunlight filtered through the windows.

Warm. Golden. Deceptively cheerful.

Elena sat at the table with a cup of coffee and stared at the photograph. Questions crowded her thoughts. Too many questions. Not enough answers. Eventually, she pushed the picture aside. Not because she was finished thinking about it. Because she needed a break, her brain felt exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that came from obsessing over the same mystery for days. Maybe weeks. Maybe a year. The realization made her sigh.

She stood. Crossed the living room. And stopped. The storage cabinet sat tucked beneath the staircase.

Small. Ordinary. Unremarkable.

A place she rarely opened for obvious reasons. Her stomach tightened. The anniversary was approaching.

Tomorrow. One year. An entire year.

The thought still felt impossible. Slowly, she crouched and opened the cabinet. The box remained exactly where she'd left it. White cardboard. Slightly worn.

Untouched.

A piece of her life she'd never been brave enough to revisit until now. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the lid. The breath left her lungs. Wedding invitations. Ribbon samples. Venue brochures. Guest lists. Photographs. Dreams. All neatly packed away. Waiting for a wedding that never happened.

Elena stared. Unable to move. Because suddenly she wasn't standing in her living room anymore. She was standing beneath strings of fairy lights.

Laughing. Arguing.

Trying—and failing—to choose centerpieces.

"These ones."

"They're tiny."

"They're elegant."

"They're microscopic."

"They're flowers, Ronan."

"Exactly. They should be visible."

"They're centerpieces, not warning beacons."

"You have no vision."

"I have too much vision."

"Impossible."

The memory faded. Leaving silence behind.

Elena swallowed hard. Then reached into the box. A cream-colored envelope emerged. Her wedding invitation. The final draft. She opened it carefully.

The paper still looked pristine, as though it had been printed yesterday.

Together with their families

Elena Hart

and

Ronan Blackwood

request the honor of your presence

The words blurred.

Not much. Just enough.

Enough to make her look away. The ache settled heavily inside her chest. Because once upon a time, that invitation had represented a future.

A certainty. A promise.

She and Ronan had been so sure. So completely certain they had all the time in the world. Funny how quickly the world corrected people like that. A small velvet box rested near the bottom. Elena recognized it immediately. The bridesmaid gifts. Still unopened. She laughed softly.

A sad sound.

Lily had threatened bodily harm if she ever looked inside without her. Some promises were dangerous to break. Others were already broken. The thought lingered.

Uncomfortable. Heavy.

A folded piece of paper slipped from between two planning binders. Elena frowned. Carefully unfolding it. Her breath caught—Ronan's handwriting.

Messy. Slanted. Instantly recognizable.

A note. Probably forgotten. Probably accidental. Yet somehow more precious than anything else in the box.

Things Elena Still Hasn't Let Me Decide

- Cake flavors

- Flowers

- Music

- Seating chart

- Napkins

- Literally everything

At the bottom, he'd added:

This wedding is a dictatorship.

I love her anyway.

The laugh escaped before the tears did. And that somehow made everything worse because she could hear him. Clear as day.

Mock-offended. Dramatic. Ridiculous. RONAN.

The note trembled in her hands. Not because of the paper. Because of her. A year. One year without hearing his voice. One year without his laugh. One year without reaching across the bed and finding him there. The grief hit unexpectedly. Not sharp. Not violent. Just deep. The kind that settled into your bones. The kind that became part of you.

Elena pressed the note against her chest. Closed her eyes. And allowed herself to miss him. Really miss him. Not the version preserved in photographs. Not the version buried beneath a headstone. The real Ronan. The man who stole blankets. Burned pancakes. Sang terribly in the shower. Pretended not to like romantic movies. And cried during every single one.

The man who made her laugh when she didn't want to. The man who made ordinary days feel extraordinary—the man she'd planned to spend forever with.

A sharp knock at the door startled her. Elena blinked. Reality returned. The living room reassembled itself around her. The box. The sunlight. The silence. Everything was exactly where she'd left it. Slowly, she wiped her eyes. Set the note aside. And stood.

The knock came again. This time, she recognized the rhythm. LILY. Of course.

Who else?

Elena opened the door. Her best friend took one look at her face. Then immediately stepped inside.

"Nope."

Elena sniffed.

"Hello to you too."

"Nope."

"Lily—"

"Nope."

Lily pulled her into a hug before she could protest. The kind of hug that didn't require explanations. Or apologies. Or words.

Just presence.

For a moment, Elena allowed herself to lean into it. Allowed herself to stop pretending she was okay, allowed herself to simply be sad. Eventually, Lily pulled back. Her gaze landed on the open wedding box. Understanding immediately filled her expression.

"Oh."

Elena nodded.

"Yeah."

Silence settled between them.

Comfortable. Painful. Necessary.

Lily reached down and picked up one of the invitation samples. A sad smile touched her lips.

"You know..."

She hesitated.

"That was going to be a really beautiful wedding."

The words shouldn't have hurt. But they did. Because they were true, it had been. Everything had been ready—everything except the future. Elena looked toward the window. Toward the distant forest beyond town. The trees stood motionless beneath the afternoon sun.

Watching. Waiting. Keeping their secrets.

The anniversary was tomorrow. And tomorrow night, the moon would be full. The realization settled heavily inside her chest. One year. Exactly one year. A full moon then. A full moon now. The coincidence should have meant nothing. Yet somehow it felt important. Like a piece of a puzzle, she couldn't quite see; like a door beginning to open.

Elena stared at the tree line. And for the first time, she found herself wondering whether tomorrow would bring answers. Or only more ghosts.

Far beyond town, hidden among the shadows of the forest, a black wolf lifted his head toward the sky. The moon was almost full. One more night. One more cycle. One more anniversary. The pain of it settled deep inside him.

Because while Elena remembered the day she lost him, Ronan remembered the day he lost everything.

And tomorrow would force him to relive it all over again.