Amelia’s POV

The house was buzzing.

Not the kind of stress-buzzing that came with rogue attacks or pack meetings, but the happy kind. Music bounced off the walls. People laughed in the backyard, wrapped in scarves and gloves, holding little mugs of spiced cider. Fairy lights lined the trees, making everything look soft and magical.

Ryder had surprised me that morning with the idea.

“One last celebration before we officially become ‘boring married people,’” he’d said with a wink.

I ...