The great hall of Thunder Storm fell silent when the doors banged open.
At the far end of the aisle, beneath an arch of white roses, Charles stood in a dark suit, Rosalie in champagne lace at his side. The officiant's book was open between them. One more vow, one more signature, and they would be bound.
“Is that… Daisy Green?" someone whispered.
“She has the nerve to come?" another snorted. “After what happened at her birthday?"
“I heard worse," a woman muttered. “My cousin said she vanished with strange wolves and came back with her dress torn, hair a mess. If she isn't ashamed, everyone else should be."
“That's why Charles rejected her," a man said. “No Alpha keeps a Luna who throws two packs' faces in the mud."
“I thought he already cut the mate bond," another added. “Of course he
