Page 53 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

“Guess I’ll see you later, then,” she says, her smile knowing as she turns to walk away. Her dress swishes around her ankles, the soft fabric trailing behind her like a whisper. I can’t tear my eyes away, even as every rational part of me screams to look anywhere else.

I’m in so much trouble.

Peaches steps to the front of the chapel, her usual easy grin replaced by something softer, more solemn, as Elijah joins her behind the wildflower-draped music stand. His hands fidget at his sides—barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it. I am. I know the kid well enough by now to see the nerves he’s trying to mask.

Just inside the den, Charlotte waits, her fingers trembling as they grip the lace of her gown. Her face is flushed, her brown eyes glimmering with unshed tears, but there’s no doubt in her expression—just a quiet, steely determination.

“You okay?” I murmur as I step up to her.

She exhales shakily, a small laugh escaping as she nods. “I’m ready.”

I offer her my arm, and she takes it, her fingers light but firm against my sleeve. Her grip steadies as we move toward the chapel, the murmur of the pack fading into silence. Mateo’s guitar begins to sing, the melody soft and clear, carrying across the warm night air like a prayer.

The stars seem impossibly bright, the lack of pollution giving us an unfiltered view of the Milky Way spilling across the sky. Wildflowers perfume the air, their scent mingling with the faint, earthy smell of the den behind us. It feels sacred, this moment, the kind of rare beauty that cuts through the chaos of the world and makes you believe in something bigger.

As we step into the clearing, all eyes turn to Charlotte. I feel her tighten her grip on my arm, the smallest intake of breath as she takes it all in—the flowers, the glowing faces of the pack, the soft hum of anticipation. Her dress shimmers faintly in the lantern light, the lace catching and reflecting the warm glow like it was made for this moment.

And then there’s Elijah, standing tall at the end of the aisle. His shoulders square as he catches sight of her, but it’s his face that hits me. The smile that spreads across his lips is radiant, unguarded. His eyes shine like she’s the only thing in the world that matters, and it’s so damn pure that I feel something shift in my chest.

Pride. Sadness. Hope. It’s all tangled together, sharp and bittersweet. This is the girl I’ve barely had the chance to know, but she’s my brother’s legacy, my blood. And here she is, starting something new, something I never thought any of us could have in a world like this.

The walk feels too short, but we reach the end of the aisle, and I find myself hesitating as I take her hand in mine. Her fingers are trembling again, but her eyes are steady. I glance at Elijah, whose breath seems caught in his chest, and I can see it—he loves her, completely, recklessly, without hesitation.

I place her hand in his, my fingers brushing against theirs for the briefest moment. I step back, the pang in my chest sharper than I expected, but I let it go. This is her moment, their moment.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like maybe there’s a future worth fighting for.

The ceremony is simple, beautiful. Peaches stands at the front, her hands resting lightly on the music stand as she looks out at us, her smile so big I think she might just burst into laughter.

"Love isn't about grand gestures or fairy tale endings," she begins. "It’s about trust. It’s about showing up, day after day, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard."

She glances back at Charlotte and Elijah, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You two know that better than most."

Charlotte squeezes Elijah’s hand, her fingers trembling just slightly. Elijah turns toward her, brushing his thumb across her knuckles as if to sayI’m here.The gesture is so simple, so deeply grounding, that it tugs at something raw in my chest.

I chance a look at Tilda.

She’s looking right at me.

Peaches picks up the golden-threaded rope, holding it reverently as she steps forward. “This handfasting symbolizes unity,” she says, winding it gently around their joined hands. “A bond that’s both fragile and strong, woven with love, trust, and respect. May it remind you of the promises you’ve made today. Did you bring your vows?”

Charlotte and Elijah exchange a small, nervous glance before each reaches into their pocket. Charlotte pulls out a piece of paper, neatly folded, her hands trembling just slightly, and Elijah produces one as well, though his is crumpled up.

Charlotte’s voice quivers as she begins, but she steadies herself quickly, her eyes locking onto Elijah’s.

“Elijah,” she says, her voice carrying across the quiet chapel, “I promise to stand by your side, no matter what life throws at us. I promise to fight for us—for the life we’re building together—even when it feels impossible, even when it hurts.” She pauses, her hands trembling in his, but she squeezes them lightly, grounding herself.

Her eyes soften, and her voice dips into something more intimate, more vulnerable. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but when you stood up for me…when you got me out of Dallas, saved my life more than a few times, I was shocked at how kind you were. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to do something so selfless for me. But you did. You showed me what it meant to be loved.”

Her words falter for a moment, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She takes a deep breath and continues, her voice cracking but resolute. “You saved me, Elijah. You risked everything to bring me here, to give me a chance at a life I thought was impossible. And I promise I will never stop being grateful for that.”

The faintest smile touches her lips, her hands tightening around his. “I promise to listen to you, to learn with you, and to grow with you every day. To laugh with you when times are good, and to hold you when they’re not. And…I promise to play my violin for you, as long as we both shall live. Even if I get tired, even if you’re sick of hearing the same songs over and over again.”

The crowd chuckles softly, but Charlotte’s focus remains on Elijah, her expression luminous with love.

“I promise to love you,” she says, her voice thick with emotion, “not just in the moments when it’s easy, but especially in the moments when it’s hard. Because you are my home, Elijah. My safe place. My partner. And I promise that will never change.”

A murmur of approval ripples through the pack, but Elijah doesn’t seem to notice. His gaze is fixed on Charlotte, his smile slow and radiant. He takes a breath before unfolding his paper, glancing down at it briefly.

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