Olivier's pov
My heart slammed against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Elena, my Elena, was standing in the closet room, the creamy silk of her wedding dress clutched in her hands. But it wasn't the beauty of the gown that ripped through me; it was the sight of her tears. Each shimmering drop was a shard of glass piercing my soul.
Lucas stood frozen beside me, his own face a mask of concern. We had practically kicked the door off its hinges when we heard Elena’s choked sob echoing through the hallway. I hadn't even registered the frantic thudding of my own blood in my ears until I saw her.
My wolf was roaring in my head, demanding retribution. Who dared to inflict such pain on my mate? The protective instinct, primal and overwhelming, surged through me.
"Elena," I breathed,
