“Two minutes,” I said, yanking my shirt over my head.
“Tell them 2 minutes.” “I’ll— I’ll tell them five.” Damjan buttoned his own shirt, hands steady, unbothered, like the next hour wasn’t about to change both our lives permanently.
“You need at least that long to find shoes that match.” “My shoes match.” “One’s under the bed.
One’s on the windowsill.” “That’s one time.” I dropped to my knees, fished the shoe out, hopped getting it on while he watched, the corner of his mouth twitching up, not quite a smile, like he was fighting it back on principle.
“You’re enjoying this.” “A little.” “Just a little?” “…Maybe more.” I got the shoe on and stood there a second, catching my breath, the whole morning suddenly very real in a way it hadn’t been 5 minutes ago.
He’d gone still, watching me the way he only did when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
“What,” I said.
“Nothing.” A beat.
“You— you look terrified.” “I am terrified.” “Good.
So am I.” Mum was in the hallway, dressed, dabbing her eyes with a tissue that’d seen better decades.
“Don’t,” I said.
“If you start, I start.” “I’m allowed to be emotional.
My son’s marrying a werewolf.” “Bonding, Mum.” “Same thing.” “There’s no paperwork.” “There’s always paperwork somewhere, love.” She straightened my collar with both hands, and for a second neither of us said anything.
“You look beautiful,” she said.
“I got dressed in 4 minutes.” “You look beautiful anyway.” She caught Damjan’s eye over my shoulder.
They looked at each other a beat too long, and then she nodded, just slightly, and he nodded back.
“You,” she said.
“Come here a second.” He crossed the hallway.
She didn’t reach for his face this time.
Just looked at him.
“I— I know you’re scared,” she said.
“I can see it.
You hide it well, but I’m his mum, I’ve had 22 years of practice reading faces that don’t want to be read.” “I am not sure fear is the right word.” “What’s the right word, then?” He thought about it.
Actually thought, the way he did with everything, like the wrong answer might cost something.
“Responsibility,” he said.
“I am— I am terrified of getting it wrong.” “Good.” She patted his arm once, brisk.
“Anyone who isn’t terrified of that isn’t paying attention.” She looked between us, her eyes going wet at the edges, unguarded for once.
“You two— you two are going to be fine.
I don’t know how I know that.
I just do.” “You sound very certain for someone who found out werewolves existed less than a week ago.” “I’m allowed to be certain about my own son, Damjan, that’s a separate category entirely.” She swatted his arm, lighter this time.
“Now go marry him before I start crying again and ruin my mascara for the 2nd time this morning.” They’d set the ceremony space up overnight.
Rows of chairs, an open stretch of grass under the old oak tree, morning light still grey at the edges.
Every face turned as we walked out together, my heart going so fast I felt it in my teeth.
“Breathe,” Damjan said, quiet.
“I am.” “You’re not.
Your grip says otherwise.” Henrik stood at the front, a cord draped over one arm, waiting.
No clipboard, no watch-checking, none of his usual fidgeting.
It helped more than Damjan’s coaching had.
“Nico Wray.
Damjan Kessler.” His voice carried easy.
“You stand here to bind what biology already began.
By choice.
In front of witnesses who’ll hold you both to it.” “By choice,” Damjan repeated, looking only at me.
“By choice,” I said back.
Henrik wound the cord around our joined hands.
The fibre was rough, warm from the sun already.
Somewhere behind me Mum sniffled, loud enough that a couple of heads turned, and I bit down a laugh at exactly the wrong moment.
“Repeat after me.
I choose this bond.” “I choose this bond.” “I choose this bond,” Damjan echoed, voice rough.
“Knowing what it costs.” “Knowing what it costs.” His jaw tightened.
“And choosing it anyway.” “And choosing it anyway.” His voice didn’t shake this time.
Henrik tied the final knot, and the garden erupted—Tomáš whooping loud enough to startle a bird straight out of the tree.
Damjan kissed me right there, no hesitation, and the bond between us went quiet in a way I felt in my chest, steadier than it had ever felt.
“We did it,” I said against his mouth.
“We did it.” Tomáš got there first, already grinning, clapping Damjan hard enough to stagger him.
“About time.” “You’re impossible.” “Delighted.
There’s a difference.” He turned to me.
“Congratulations, captain’s husband, or mate, or whatever we’re calling it now.” “There isn’t an official title.” “There should be.
I’m putting it on a mug.” “Please don’t.” “Too late.
Little wolf on it.
Your face.
Very tasteful.” “That’s unhinged.” “I contain multitudes.” He softened, clapped Damjan’s shoulder again.
“Happy for you both.
Even if I’ve gotta say it while joking, ’cause that’s the only setting I’ve got.” “I know,” Damjan said, and the two of them held eye contact a beat too long, some private history sitting behind it that I hadn’t been let into yet.
Aldwin appeared behind Tomáš, quiet as always, and just nodded at Damjan.
One nod.
Then, to me, low: “Good luck.
You’ll need it, married to that one.” “Cheers, Aldwin.” “Don’t mention it.” He was already walking off before I’d finished the sentence, same as always, a man allergic to staying in a conversation past its useful minute.
Baresi caught me next, still in his good shirt from the ceremony, holding a small paper bag like it was evidence in a trial, careful not to crease it against his side.
“I brought biscotti,” he said.
“From my aunt’s recipe.
She said, and I quote, ‘no wedding is complete without proper biscotti, not even a werewolf one.'” “Your aunt knows about werewolves?” “My aunt does not know anything.
My aunt thinks I play for a very intense football club with strange scheduling.
I am protecting her peace of mind.” He pressed the bag into my hands like it mattered more than it should’ve.
“Eat one.
For luck.” “Thanks, Baresi.” “Don’t thank me.
Thank my aunt.
She’ll never know, but the sentiment should go somewhere.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I checked it without really thinking, still riding the high of the whole thing.
mum sent pics.
is that an actual cord tied round your hands or did i imagine that also is that a real bird in the tree or was it CGI’d in for drama it’s real.
also yes actual cord.
it’s a whole thing this family is so weird and i love it.
congrats bro.
dont die thanks for the vote of confidence im just saying.
ur track record with staying alive this year has been shaky I laughed out loud, sharp enough that Tomáš gave me a look.
“What?” “Nothing.
My brother.” “The teenager?” “The teenager.” Mum reached us, pulled me into a hug that knocked the air out of me.
“I’m proud of you,” she said into my shoulder.
“Don’t even understand half of it.
Still proud.” “You don’t need to understand it.” She pulled back to look at Damjan, one hand still gripping my arm.
“Look— look after him properly.
None of this going quiet on him.” “I’ll do my best.” “It’d better be good.” “I’m told it’s improving.” She reached up and patted his cheek like he was 20 years younger than he was, and he let her.
A week ago he’d have flinched from a touch like that.
Now his shoulders just dropped, an inch, maybe less, but I caught it.
Over her shoulder, Henrik’s face was still open, still warm, a man whose worst day was finally behind him.
Then his phone buzzed.
I watched the warmth drain out of him in real time.
“Henrik.
What is it?” He didn’t answer.
Just stared at the screen.
“Henrik.” “Give me a second.” “You’re scaring me.” “Don’t be scared yet.” Damjan’s hand found the small of my back, steady, and Henrik still hadn’t looked up, thumb moving over the screen like he was rereading it, checking he hadn’t got it wrong the first time.
“Just tell us,” Damjan said.
Henrik looked up.
His eyes went to Damjan first, not me.
“Gregor’s— Gregor’s at the gate,” he said.
“Asking for you both.
Says he wants to meet his new son.” I heard the voice before I even turned round.
Unhurried.
Carrying easy across 300 wolves like the crowd was nothing at all, like he’d walked through worse rooms than this one and found them all equally unimpressive.
“I came to see if the rumours were true.” Gregor stood at the edge of the seating now, close enough that people had gone quiet just to hear him properly.
His eyes found mine over the heads between us.
“That my son’s oldest rival had finally found something worth protecting.” Nobody said anything, and the whole garden had gone still.
Not the nice kind.
The kind where nobody breathes.
“He has,” Gregor said.
“Which means I finally know exactly where to aim.”