Page 2 of Alpha’s Second Chance (Moonlit Secrets #5)

The air inside the church is thick with the scent of roses and candle wax, a manufactured kind of romance that feels suffocating.

I stand at the entrance of the aisle, my hands curled tightly around the bouquet of ivory peonies, my pulse pounding so violently I swear it echoes against the vaulted ceilings. Every guest turns to watch me as I walk slowly down the aisle. Some smile warmly, eyes glistening with emotion, while others exchange knowing glances. A few guests press their hands to their chests, their expressions filled with admiration.

I should want this.

I should be happy doing this.

Grant waits at the altar, his face an unreadable mask of practiced charm. His tailored black suit is perfect, every detail meticulously arranged. The golden glow of the chandeliers reflects in his piercing blue eyes, the same eyes that once made me feel safe. But now, in the wake of last night’s revelation, all I see is deception.

"She’s completely in the dark... Yes, I’ll make sure she’s isolated after the wedding... No, she has no idea what’s coming."

His words from the phone call still crawl beneath my skin like venom. My stomach churns violently as my mind races with the weight of it all. My fiancé—the man I trusted, the man I was about to marry—has been working against me from the very start.

For years, I convinced myself I could build something normal. That I could be a woman first, a mother second, and never a wolf again. But I was wrong.

My wolf stirs beneath the surface, pacing inside me, snarling. She knows the truth now. I can’t ignore her anymore.

Then I smell it as I move close to Grant at the altar.

A scent so raw, so primal it nearly sends me to my knees. Earthy pine, crisp mountain air, something wild and untamed. My heart clenches violently as my gaze flickers across the pews, seeking out the source.

And then I see him.

He stands at the back of the church, half in shadow, his tall, broad frame still as stone. Dark hair, tousled as if the wind has just played through it. Deep blue eyes that burn through the crowd, locking onto mine.

The moment our eyes meet, the world tilts.

It’s like being struck by lightning, like the first gasp of air after drowning. A deep pull in my bones, my blood, my very being. My breath catches in my throat. My wolf goes deathly silent, then surges forward so violently I have to grip the back of a pew to steady myself.

Mate.

The word slams into me, an unshakable truth written into my DNA.

No. No, no, no.

This can’t be happening. Not now. Not here.

My fingers tremble around the bouquet, and the blood drains from my face. I take a shaky step back, my vision narrowing to just him, to the way he watches me—intense, unreadable, waiting.

Something inside me splinters, a crack in the walls I spent years fortifying.

I can't do this.

I can’t marry Grant.

I can’t stay here.

And suddenly, I ran.

I don’t make it three steps before I hear Grant’s voice behind me, sharp and commanding.

"Celeste!"

But I don’t stop.

Gasps ripple through the church as I shove past startled guests, the heavy train of my lace wedding gown tangling around my legs. My breath is ragged, my heart slamming against my ribs.

The doors loom ahead—heavy, wooden, but they might as well be salvation.

Just as I reach them, a hand clamps around my wrist.

Grant.

His grip is tight, bruising. "What the hell are you doing?" he hisses, his breath hot against my cheek. His fingers dig into my skin, his voice low and urgent. "You can’t leave."

Panic claws at my throat. He knows. He knows what I heard.

"Let me go," I whisper, my voice shaking.

His expression flickers, a split-second of something dark. "You’re making a mistake."

I yank back with everything I have, shoving him away so hard he stumbles. Shock flashes across his face, but I don’t wait for his response—I tear through the doors and into the night.

Cool air rushes over my overheated skin, but I barely feel it. The forest stretches beyond the church, dark and endless. I kick off my heels, lift the heavy layers of my gown, and run.

My instincts scream shift, shift, shift, but I can’t—not here, not now, not with human eyes still trailing after me.

Footsteps thunder behind me.

"Mom!"

I spin toward the sound of my son’s voice.

Theo stands at the church entrance, his small figure silhouetted by the golden glow inside. His golden-hazel eyes—my eyes—are wide with confusion, his face pale.

"Come here, baby," I pleaded. "We have to go."

Hesitation flickers across his face, but something in my tone snaps him into action. He bolts toward me.

As he reaches me, I grab him by the wrist, ready to run as fast as I can, then a deep, commanding voice cuts through the chaos.

"Celeste."

It’s him.

The man from the church.

I whirl to find him stepping out of the shadows. He moves with effortless grace, his presence an unshakable force, like the night itself. The way his gaze locks onto mine sends another sharp jolt through me.

The mate bond pulls between us, strong and undeniable.

But I don’t trust it.

I don’t trust him.

And I sure as hell don’t trust myself.

"Stay away," I snap, stepping back protectively in front of Theo.

He stops a few feet away, his hands at his sides, but he doesn’t back down. His gaze flickers over me—my disheveled gown, my bare feet, the wild panic in my eyes—before settling on Theo.

His jaw tightens.

"You need to come with me," he says, his voice a low rumble.

I shake my head violently. "I don’t know you."

"You don’t have to," he says simply. "But if you stay here, you’ll die."

The words slam into me like a punch to the gut.

And then I hear it—more footsteps.

Grant’s voice, sharp and furious. "Stop them! Don’t forget to use the silver bullets."

A group of armed men in black suits burst from the church, moving fast, their intent clear.

I don’t have time to process, don’t have time to think.

Rowan moves first.

He lunges toward me, faster than any human should be. Instinctively, I stagger back, but instead of attacking, his arm snaps around my waist—strong, unyielding.

"You need to trust me please, there’s no time to explain, we need to move.” he growls.

And before I can fight, before I can scream, before I can do anything—He grabs Theo, pushes him onto his back and then, he shifts.

One second, he's a man. The next, a massive jet-black wolf stands in his place, Theo gripping onto his thick fur.

I freeze.

My wolf roars inside me.

Theo gasps, but I don’t have time to reassure him.

Because the men chasing us are closing in on us.

Rowan’s massive form is already moving, his growl vibrating through the night. He’s fighting for us.

And I realize something, something terrifying and undeniable.

Grant isn’t just chasing me.

He’s hunting me.

And unless I start fighting back, I won’t survive.

This isn’t just a wedding gone wrong.

This is war.

And I have no choice but to finally become the wolf I was always meant to be.

In split seconds, the murmurs of the onlookers fade, their awe-struck whispers nothing but a distant hum beneath the pounding in my ears. My knees buckle, and I drop to all fours, my fingers clawing at the dirt as a new, foreign strength pulses through my limbs. My skin prickles—then burns—as it gives way to thick fur, gleaming under the moonlight. The shift isn’t just pain; it’s power, raw and untamed, surging through me like a current that refuses to be stopped.

A gasp ripples through the crowd. I lift my head, my vision sharpening, colors and scents exploding into clarity I’ve never known before. My heartbeat steadies, strong and sure, as I plant my paws—my paws—firmly into the ground. The weight of my human form is gone, replaced by something sleek, powerful, and undeniably wild and I quickly move ahead catching up with Rowan and Theo, leaving the chaos behind us.