(Thomas POV)
I stood in my weight room, taking advantage of the mirrors in there to get into this contraption Alice insisted I wear, but it just wasn't fitting like I thought it should.
I yanked the tie loose again. Too tight. Or maybe it wasn't the tie…maybe it was the collar. I checked the buttons. Nothing was straining. Nothing looked wrong.
So why did it feel like a noose?
I slid a finger under the collar and tugged, trying to pretend I wasn't about to pick a fight with cotton and satin, when I heard the door open behind me.
"You wrinkle that collar," Jasper said, voice dry as dust, "or for heaven's sake pop that top button, and I will not be able to save you from Alice's wrath."
I met his eyes in the mirror. He looked perfectly put together, like he'd been born wearing formalwear and quiet threats.
"She must've cut this thing too tight," I muttered. "Or I put on more size since she measured me." I gestured at the tux like it had personally offended me.
Jasper's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "You didn't put on size."
"Then why…"
"Because today counts," he cut in, matter-of-fact. Then he stepped closer and reached past my shoulder, fingers precise, adjusting the knot with a competence that made my fumbling feel pathetic. "And your body knows it counts, even if your brain is trying to turn it into a wardrobe problem."
I swallowed, watching his hands move. "I'm fine."
Jasper gave me a look that said he'd heard that lie from soldiers and fools.
"Sure," he said. "You're fine. That's why you've strangled yourself three times in five minutes."
I huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. "It's not my fault. It's… aggressive tailoring."
He tightened the tie again, just enough to be right, not enough to make me want to rip it off. "There. Breathe."
I did. The air went in easier than it had a second ago, which was annoying.
"Any last-minute advice?" I asked, keeping my tone light because if I didn't, it wouldn't be.
Jasper's gaze flicked to the door like he could already feel Alice vibrating through the walls. "Stand where you're told. Say what you mean. Don't look like you're planning an escape route. And remember…this day is for her. Your job is to not ruin it."
I stared at him. "I'm not planning an escape route."
His expression didn't change. "Then stop standing like you are."
I forced my shoulders down. Forced my hands to unclench. The mirror showed me a man dressed like he belonged in a catalog, not like someone who'd spent the last week juggling wolves, treaties, and a vampire family that could turn a wedding into a battlefield if the wrong person breathed too hard.
Jasper gave a small nod, like he'd approved the correction.
"And Thomas," he added, quieter.
"Yeah?"
"If anything goes sideways," he said, voice still calm, "you look at me. Not Alice. Not Carlisle. Me."
I frowned. "Why you?"
"Because Alice will try to fix everything at once," he said. "Carlisle will try to save everyone at once. I'll keep the room from becoming a weapon."
That landed heavier than it should have, and my throat tightened for a reason that had nothing to do with collars.
I nodded once. "Got it."
Jasper stepped back, straightening his own cuffs like this was just another day. Then he tilted his head toward the door.
"Time," he said. "Try not to glare at the altar like it owes you money."
I exhaled slow through my nose. "No promises."
"That," Jasper said, opening the door, "is exactly the kind of confidence Alice likes. Move."
Jasper led the way down the hall, and through my house. The closer we got to the door leading to the backyard, the heavier I felt the air get. My mouth was dry, and my arms covered in goose bumps under the sleeves.
When Jasper opened the double doors, I felt my vision narrow and lock onto a spot down the aisle that parted the small crowd at the altar everyone was facing. For a second, I looked at the ground and thought I saw a large X taped there with Alice's handwriting saying: The sacrifice stands here.
I blinked and let a small smile creep onto my face as I moved forward. Emmett stood at the front already, big hands clasped in front of him, grin in place like he'd been told to behave and was doing his best to make it look effortless. The tux couldn't hide what he was, nothing could. He looked like a boulder someone had dressed up.
He winked at me when I got close, like this was a game.
Jasper stepped into position beside him, calm settling over the front like a blanket he'd thrown over all of us. No one else would feel it the way I did, my shoulders loosened without permission. My hands unclenched.
He'd done that on purpose. But it was anyone's guess if he used his powers, or it was just his natural calming presence.
I took my place and turned to take in the crowd I had missed as I walked the aisle.
Starting at the front row on the left side a saw Charlie, and it looked like Alice had gotten hold of his wardrobe.
The suit actually fit him. That was the first giveaway. Charlie Swan didn't do "tailored." Charlie did "serviceable," and then acted offended that anyone expected more. But today? The shoulders sat right. The tie was straight. His hair was combed. He looked like someone had tried very hard to make him feel like he belonged in a room where half the guests could tear steel with their hands and still be ready for a photo shoot.
He still looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
Beside him sat Sue Clearwater.
That, more than the suit, made my chest go tight.
Sue wasn't dressed up like she was playing at being fancy. She was dressed like she'd decided this mattered and that was enough. Calm, steady, eyes focused. Though her hand on Charlie's arm had me hopeful that she wasn't here just for her duties as a Quileute Elder.
Bella had informed me that Charlie had asked her to make enough for their meals that there would be leftovers to take to the Clearwater home from time to time.
Next to Sue was a surprise to me, Leah. Edythe had informed me that she was going to invite her, but Leah made no mention of coming during our training. Her face looked tight and more than a little wary, but I locked eyes with her and gave her the warmest smile I could. Her flinty expression softened a little, but her eyes were still unreadable.
I forced myself to keep scanning before I stared too long.
Across the aisle on the other side, front row right, I found Renée the way you find weather. Not because she was loud, Phil had a hand over hers and she was making a real effort, but because everything about her wanted to spill outward.
Her eyes were bright. Her posture leaned forward like she might stand up and clap at any moment, or cry, or both. Phil sat steady beside her, calm as a dock piling in a storm, looking like he'd already accepted his role as human ballast.
And next to Renée…
Esme.
That was… smart.
Esme's smile was soft, her hands folded neatly, her whole demeanor set to "gentle." But it wasn't for show. She was doing what she always did: making space for someone else to be okay.
I caught Renée glancing over her shoulder at the house behind the chairs, my house, and I saw it in her face again, the same flash from when she'd arrived two days ago and stopped dead in the driveway like she'd been hit with a memory she hadn't ordered.
She'd stared at the porch, the new paint, the clean lines, the yard that didn't match the half-forgotten picture in her head.
"It's… different," she'd breathed.
Not accusing. Not even sad.
Just stunned at how time could take something that once belonged to her and turn it into something that belonged to me.
Now she looked at it like she was trying to hold both versions at once and failing.
Good luck with that, Aunt Renée.
A few seats down from them were Bella and Edward.
Bella wasn't giddy, not the way Alice wanted everyone to be, not the way a wedding magazine would demand. She looked…thoughtful. Like she was watching the whole setup and trying to decide what it meant, turning it over carefully instead of letting it sweep her away.
That made sense. In Bella's world, "early marriage" was a punchline and a warning wrapped into one. Renee had raised her on the idea that settling down young was a kind of surrender—like you woke up one day in an apron you never chose and realized your life had quietly ended.
And yet.
Bella's eyes tracked the aisle, then drifted to me, and there was something there, an acknowledgment that surprised me. Not judgment. Not pity. More like…recalibration. Like seeing me stand here, alive and stubborn and still myself, was forcing her to admit that a ring didn't automatically equal a cage.
If anything, it looked like a choice. A line drawn on purpose.
Edward sat beside her, his hand over hers, still and careful. Anchoring without pulling. He looked…happy, in that controlled Edward way. Not because he loved weddings, he didn't, but because Edythe was finally getting the day she'd been denied for nearly a century. He kept glancing toward the back like he needed to see Edythe walk down the aisle to confirm it was real.
Bella leaned closer once, not to whisper, just to breathe out like she was trying to settle her nerves in the shape of him. Then she looked back down the aisle again, contemplative and steady, as if she were letting herself consider, maybe for the first time, that "marriage" didn't have to mean losing herself.
Maybe it could mean choosing someone and still staying whole. If anyone could read her mind at the moment, they would find her thoughts drifting along the lines of a quick Vegas trip this summer. A little chapel with Elvis satisfying the requirements Edward had put forth before they could have sex.
It was the one last human experience she wanted before becoming a vampire. After all, everyone told her that intimacy would matter less than her craving for blood the first few years. She was determined to see if sex was the all-consuming experience described in her books.
Behind them sat Angela and Ben, two normal humans who looked like they were attending a wedding and also a documentary about predator animals. Angela was trying very hard to behave like this was normal. Ben looked like he'd already decided he was going to survive by not speaking unless spoken to.
Fair strategy.
After glancing through the guests, my attention turned to the house and the missing people that would signal the start of this ceremony.
Then my gaze slid back to Leah, I didn't know what it cost her to sit here, what it cost her to be in a yard full of vampires when every instinct in her body had been trained to call them enemy.
But she was here anyway.
That meant something.
Movement at the edge of my vision pulled me back. Carlisle just stepped out of the doorway, standing just off to the side of the arch Alice had built out of white flowers and greenery that didn't belong in the Pacific Northwest in March. He looked calm, composed, like a doctor stepping into an operating room.
Only today the patient was my future.
He met my eyes for a second, steady, reassuring, and then looked away before it became too much. Carlisle didn't do performative comfort. He did quiet.
A breeze cut across the yard, lifting the edge of the runner Alice had laid down like it was trying to escape. It carried the scent of wet grass, cedar, and something sweet from the arrangements. Somewhere close, a bird called, then went quiet like it realized it was intruding.
The crowd shifted, subtle, the way humans did when they sensed something was about to happen. A whisper moved through the chairs, mostly nerves, mostly "what do I do with my hands?" energy.
Jasper's calm held the whole space together, smoothing the sharp edges before they could slice.
And then, barely audible, music started.
Not a big swelling orchestral thing. Nothing dramatic. Alice had picked something soft, deliberate. Something that wouldn't make Charlie bolt or Renee sob loud enough to set off car alarms.
My throat tightened anyway.
First through the archway was Alice. She looked truly beautiful in her baby-blue dress, soft and airy, like she'd stepped out of some storybook she'd personally approved. The color made her look almost too bright for a gray Washington afternoon. Her smile was real, but there was tension at the edges of her eyes, like she was holding a dozen moving pieces in place by sheer will.
As she walked the aisle to her self-appointed spot in front of the crowd, I saw her glance at Bella…not just a polite sweep, but a quick, assessing look that lingered half a beat too long. When she passed me, her lips parted, and I caught the faintest mutter under her breath.
"Vegas," she whispered, irritated in a way that didn't match the dress. "Absolutely not."
I blinked. Alice didn't do "random." If she was mad at a city, it meant she'd seen something.
I didn't have time to chase it.
Next out was Rosalie. Her perfectly measured steps and unrivaled beauty drew every eye like gravity. She didn't look nervous. She looked inevitable, like the aisle existed because she was walking it. A soft sound from Emmett…half sigh, half reverence…told me that even after all their years together, he still fell a little harder every time he looked at her.
Then Kate came through.
Her beauty was unquestioned, but it wasn't the kind that begged for attention. It was the kind that owned the space without trying. She moved with a confidence that felt natural, like she'd never once had to wonder where she belonged.
And the second I saw her, the yard faded at the edges.
Because my mind went back to the first time she'd walked into the Cullen house, rain on her coat, mischief in her eyes, and the way her voice had cut through the room like she'd brought her own weather with her.
"Edythe," Warm. Familiar. A little too sharp around the edges.
"I heard there's a wedding," she'd said, like it was gossip and fate all at once.
Alice asked the question on everyone's mind, "You came alone. The others aren't coming?"
Kate's smile faltered. Not gone, just…thinned. "They'll only come if it's for revenge," she said quietly. "Revenge on the wolves who killed Laurent."
My stomach tightened at that. "Why would they want that? It happened months ago, and it was only to stop him from killing my sister."
Kate exhaled, slow. "It's Irina." The name came out like a bruise pressed. "She was in love with Laurent"
Her eyes flicked away, like she didn't want anyone watching grief happen in real time. "She refuses to believe anything but the best of Laurent, she refuses to believe your story is the truth."
Edythe's expression didn't change much, she was too practiced at calm, but her voice softened. "I tried to explain to her that he was here because of Victoria. That he wasn't hunting on his own."
Kate nodded once. "Tanya is trying to get her to see reason, but…" Her shoulders lifted and fell, controlled. "Grief doesn't listen."
Then she straightened like she'd snapped a door shut on the subject. "Enough of that." A brighter note, forced but offered. "What color shall my dress be?"
Alice's eyes lit like someone had handed her a weapon. "Oh. I have options."
Kate's mouth curved, and for a heartbeat it looked almost real again. She turned back to Edythe and let the teasing do what it was meant to do, pull everyone back from the edge.
"I demand the right to stand with you, my dear Edythe. And now," she added, gaze sliding to me, "you should properly introduce me to the man who stole you from me."
I'd thought then, briefly, stupidly, that she was just another complication.
Now, watching her take her place as one of Edythe's bridesmaids, I understood the truth.
Kate wasn't a complication.
She was history.
And whatever Irina thought about Laurent, whatever the Denali clan carried like a grudge or a wound, was sitting in the back of my mind like a loaded question I hadn't had time to ask yet.
Kate reached her spot and finally looked up. Her gaze met mine for a second, knowing, unreadable, then slid away as if to remind me: today wasn't about her.
The music kept going, soft and deliberate.
The air shifted again.
And behind me, the house felt suddenly…full.
Like the next door that opened was going to change everything.