Chapter 13 Disappearance
Aelira’s POV
“What do you mean, gone?” My words scrape out on the edge of a whisper, brittle and disbelieving.
Oriana clamps my hands in hers, her fingers trembling with urgency. Her eyes, always so steady, now flicker with alarm. “He got a phone call and left. Half an hour ago, Aelira. No one has seen him since.”
A hard, cold pit opens in my stomach. Around us, the ceremonial attendants freeze, fingers still tangled in silk, pins poised midair, as if some spell has snapped,
“There has to be some mistake,” I say, but my voice is hollow. My hands fumble for my phone, each movement clumsy and desperate. I dial Alarion, praying for his voice, for any explanation. The phone rings and rings, then drops to voicemail. I try again–nothing.
“His phone’s off,” I whisper, panic rising sharp and metallic in the back of my throat.
Oriana waves the attendants out with a curt, decisive gesture. They melt away, leaving us alone with the thickening silence. She kneels in front of me, her violet ceremonial gown pooling around her knees in a shimmer of silk.
“Just breathe, Aelira. We’ll work this out.”
But her words swim somewhere distant. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything. The ceremony is supposed to begin in less than an hour. Already, guests are streaming in–pack leaders, Council dignitaries, family friends. And Alarion, my mate, the Alpha groom, has vanished.
“My mother,” I gasp, the realization crashing into me. “She’s here already. She’s looked forward to this day for so long.”
Just picturing my mother, so fragile and hopeful–what this would do to her, how it would shatter her–makes me
nauseous.
“I’ll take care of your mother,” Oriana promises, voice fierce. “You need to call Luthen. If anyone knows where Alarion is, it’s
his Beta.”
She’s right. Luthen Brielle, Alarion’s shadow, always knows where he is.
“Go,” I urge, voice shaking. “Just.. don’t let my mother hear anything she can’t handle.”
Oriana gives my shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze and slips out. Alone, I press Luthen’s number, my free hand cradling my swollen belly, caught between dread and a mother’s protectiveness.
He answers instantly, voice tense. “Luna Aelira.”
“Where is he, Luthen?” I snap, not bothering with pleasantries. “The ceremony’s about to start.”
Silence. The pause stretches, heavy and telling.
“Luthen,” I say, letting the Luna’s authority harden my voice, something I almost never do. “Where is my mate?”
He sighs, the sound laced with defeat. “He’s at Aethervale Hospital.”
A bolt of ice sears through me. “Is he hurt?”
“No, Luna. He’s-” Luthen hesitates, then forces it out. “He heard Cyrinne Wynthor tried to kill herself again. He left the
moment be found out.”
The words strike like a fist. Cyrinne. Again. On today of all days.
“Let me get this straight,” I say, fighting for composure, my voice a razor’s edge. “Alarion abandoned our mating ceremony to rush to Cyrinne’s side?”
“I tried to stop him,” Luthen blurts. “He wouldn’t listen. He said he owed her.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wrestling a torrent of humiliation, fury, and bottomless hurt. Each feeling gnaws at the next, battling for dominance.
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“Luna, I’ve already sent enforcers to get him,” Luthen adds quickly. “He’ll make it back. He has to,”
“Will he?” I breathe, mostly to myself, the words bitter on my tongue.
Deep inside, my wolf whimpers, raw and bewildered by another abandonment. She bristles, desperate to shield our unborn pup from this chaos.
“I’ll handle it,” I tell Luthen, voice barely steady. “But keep this quiet. No one can know–especially my mother.”
“Of course, Luna.”
I hang up, numb, staring at my reflection in the ornate mirror. The ceremonial headdress weighs heavy on my skull. The painted markings on my skin, the gown’s intricate embroidery–all of it suddenly feels like a costume for a ceremony that might not happen.
A gentle knock breaks my trance. The door swings open, and Elysande Riven strides in, eyes blazing gold with anger.
“Where is he?” she demands, skipping any pretense of civility. “Where is my son?”
I hesitate, unwilling to expose Alarion’s betrayal to his mother.
“Luthen called me,” Elysande cuts in, her voice tight with fury. “He wouldn’t say where Alarion went, but I know it’s about that girl.”
My silence is answer enough. Her face goes stony.
“Aethervale Hospital?” she asks, voice sharp.
I manage a nod, my throat too tight for words.
“Foolish, foolish boy,” she mutters, yanking out her phone. She tries Alarion–no answer. Her jaw clenches. She dials Luthen, barking. “Put my son on. Now.”
Luthen’s muffled apologies leak through the line, but his words are indistinct.
“This is intolerable,” Elysande snaps. “Tell him his mother expects a full explanation the moment he returns.”
She hangs up, then turns to me. Her anger softens, replaced by resolve.
“I’ll deal with Alarion when the time comes,” she says, gentler now. “What matters is the ceremony. The guests are arriving, and your mother is already settled in the place of honor.”
Just the mention of my mother sends another wave of anxiety through me.
“She can’t know,” I plead. “She’s too fragile for this. It would destroy her.”
“She’ll hear nothing from me,” Elysande assures, smoothing my veil with a tenderness that almost undoes me. “Alarion will return. And when he does, I’ll personally ensure he pays for this.”
The door creaks again, Oriana enters, her face grim.
“Bad news,” she says quietly. “Your mother refuses to leave. She’s too excited–nothing I say will move her.”
My heart sinks. Time is slipping away. Twenty minutes until the ceremony, and Alarion’s across the city, wrapped up in Cyrinne’s disaster.
“I need air,” I say abruptly, gathering my skirts.
“Aelira, you can’t let the guests see you yet, Elysande protests.
“Dust the private balcony,” I insist. “I need one minute. Alone.”
Elysande and Oriana exchange worried glances but allow me to slip away. I step onto the narrow stone balcony, hidden behind the ceremonial drapes, and stare down at the gathering below.
The pack and honored guests swirl beneath me, their laughter and anticipation rising in a bright, discordant hum. Today is supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, I’m trapped in this exquisite cage, paralyzed by dread.
But then I spot my mother–frail, radiant with joy in her seat of honor. Her smile, so fragile, is the only thing keeping me
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upright. For her, I will survive whatever comes.
A ripple of silence passes through the crowd. I notice guests glancing at their phones, whispering urgently. A knot tightens in my gut.
“Something’s happening,” I murmur, leaning forward, searching the faces below.
Oriana appears at my side. “Word’s spreading. People know Alarion’s missing.”
Dread pools, cold and thick, inside me. If the rumors reach my mother-
I have to go down there,” I decide, gathering my strength, forcing my feet to move back toward the preparation room.
As I tum, a striking figure catches my eye. Daelor Briarhallow stands at the fringe of the crowd. His Alpha presence radiates power, impossible to miss. Even through the curtain’s shadow, his silver–gray gaze finds mine, steady and direct.
My breath stalls. Why is he here? We sent the invitation for diplomacy’s sake, never expecting he’d attend.
Yet here he is commanding, effortlessly magnetic, his eyes locked on mine.
Oriana tugs my arm, snapping me back. “Aelira, we need a plan–if Alarion doesn’t make it.”
“He’ll come,” I whisper, my voice thin, clinging to hope as it slips through my fingers. “He has to.”
But even as I say it, doubt gnaws at me. If he truly cared, would he have left me at all?
Back in the preparation room, my mind races, desperate for solutions. Could we stall? Fabricate some tradition to buy
time?
A soft knock interrupts my spiraling thoughts. Oriana opens the door and steps aside, lips parted in surprise.
“Alpha Briarhallow,” she greets, dipping her head in respect.
Daelor’s presence fills the room. He’s taller than I remember, his gaze silver and knowing as it settles on me.
“Luna Sunmere,” he says, choosing my maiden name, not Riven. The choice is pointed, deliberate. “I thought you might welcome a friendly face in all this chaos.”
His words confirm my worst fear: he knows Alarion is missing
“How did you find out?” I ask, voice raw.
Daelor’s expression is careful, but his eyes flicker with something like empathy. “News moves fast among Alphas,” he says quietly. Then, dropping his voice so only I can hear, he asks the question that cleaves through everything:
“Do you intend to stay?”
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