Page 4 of Run Wild Omega

Three hours later, I stand in the bridal suite at the Lodge, staring at myself in the full-length mirror.

I’ve never been a fan of dressing up, preferring my hiking boots and leggings, but even I have to admit I look… okay. More than okay. I’m twenty-seven, but in this moment, looking at my reflection, I feel the weight of every year that has passed since I left Sweet Creek.

I’m wearing a floor-length gown of deep emerald silk. The bodice is fitted, clinging to my ribs and waist before flaring out gently at the hips. It has a cowl neck in the back, exposing my spine to the chilly air of the room, and delicate spaghetti straps holding it all together. The color makes my eyes pop, turning their usual blue-gray into a stormy, vibrant shade. My hair is loose in golden waves, pinned back on one side with a sparkling comb that matches Mara’s.

My mother, Margaret, bustles into the room, looking flushed and harried but absolutely radiant. She’s wearing a floor-length dress of dusty rose, her graying hair curled into an elegant updo.

“Oh, Tess.” She presses a hand to her chest. “You look breathtaking. Your father is going to cry.”

“Poor Dad. He’ll be a mess walking Mara down the aisle as it is.”

She laughs, coming over to adjust a stray lock of my hair. “He’s a softie, that one. Just like his daughter.”

I stiffen slightly. I haven’t been soft in a long time.

Then the door opens, and Mara steps out.

Time stops.

She’s wearing a gown of ivory lace and tulle, fitted through the bodice with long, sheer sleeves that end in delicate points over her hands. The skirt is a cascade of lace and silk, embroidered with tiny pearls that catch the light like fresh snow. Her hair is half-up, the rest falling in soft curls down her back, and a veil of illusion tulle trails behind her.

But it’s her face. She isn’t just glowing; she’s incandescent. The fear, the cynicism, the guardedness—it’s all gone. In its place is a pure and unadulterated joy that makes my throat tight.

“Mara,” I whisper. “You look… you look like a queen.”

She turns, eyes wide. “Do you think they’ll like it?”

I walk over to grab her hands. “They’re going to forget how to speak when they see you. They’re going to forget how to breathe.”

She laughs, a nervous, watery sound. “Good.”

The ceremony is held in the great room of the Lodge. The floor-to-ceiling windows that usually offer a view of the ski slopes are frosted over with snow, but the room is warm, bathed in the golden glow of hundreds of fairy lights and pillar candles wrapped in pine boughs. Pine, old timber, and the overwhelming perfume of white roses mix in the air.

I take my place at the altar, standing opposite my best friend’s mates.

Daniel is wearing a charcoal suit that fits his broad shoulders perfectly, a white rose pinned to his lapel. He looks calm, but his eyes are searching the crowd, zeroed in on the entrance.

Gray stands next to him. He’s in a midnight blue tuxedo that contrasts with his black hair and brings out the gray in his eyes. He looks stoic, as always, but there’s a softness around his mouth that I’ve never seen before.

Leo is on the end. He’s in a tailored black suit, having forgone the traditional bow tie for a sleek black tie, his curly hair tamed into something resembling style. He’s practically vibrating with energy, grinning like he’s already won the lottery.

The music changes into a soft, instrumental swell of strings. The double doors at the back of the room open.

Mara appears on my father’s arm.

Dad looks proud, his chest puffed out, but I see him wipe a tear away as he steps forward.

The walk down the aisle feels like it takes both a second and a lifetime. I watch the faces of the people we grew up with. Nora is in the front row, wearing a bright purple hat and crying openly into a handkerchief. Sheriff Tom Reddick is standing against the wall near the back, arms crossed, looking like a hawk guarding a nest. Wes Calder is at the bar in the back, watching with a soft smile.

When they reach the front, Dad lifts Mara’s veil and kisses her cheek, whispering something that makes her smile through her tears. He takes his seat next to Mom, and Mara steps up to join her pack.

The ceremony is simple, sweet, and heartbreakingly honest. They wrote their own vows. By the time they exchange rings—simple gold bands to match the ones Mara’s parents wore—I’m sobbing. And I’m not the only one.

When the officiant pronounces them a bonded pack, and Leo pulls Mara in for a kiss that is entirely too enthusiastic for a church-adjacent setting, the room erupts into cheers.

The reception is a full-blown Sweet Creek Falls party.

The ballroom has been transformed. The centerpieces are tall vases filled with birch branches, white twinkling lights, and more pine boughs. The tables are covered in white linens with gold runners.