Liam POV:

The ceremony cost three million dollars. White roses, silver ribbons, and a suffocating sense of dread.

I stood at the altar. Chloe walked down the aisle. She looked beautiful, I told myself. The perfect, docile Luna.

But my eyes kept darting behind her.

Where was the bridesmaid?

Ava was supposed to be carrying the train. Her final submission.

But the space was empty.

A murmur went through the crowd.

As Chloe reached the altar, the scent hit me. Or rather, the lack of it. The air was sterile.

"Do you, Liam Vanderbilt..."

My wolf let out a high-pitched whine. Mourning.

"Liam?" Chloe whispered.

"Where is she?" I asked loudly.

"She... she must be sick," Chloe stammered.

I looked at Chloe. Then I saw the image of Ava in the fire.

"I can't do this."

"What?" Chloe shrieked.

I ran. I ignored the Elders. I shifted mid-stride, shredding my tuxedo, sprinting toward the city.

I burst into the penthouse.

"Ava!"

Silence.

I ran to the bedroom. The dress was on the bed. On the floor lay the broken silver ankle monitor.

Broken silver. Impossible.

I fell to my knees, pressing my nose into the carpet. Her scent was fading.

The bond—that thin thread I had ignored—was gone. She hadn't just run. She had severed us.

I let out a howl that shook the glass walls.