DARIAN POV
When Stan called and asked me to come a week before their ceremony, I almost choked on the beer I was nursing. Brownie points? Please — he’d just earned himself a whole tray. I was miserable, moping, the kind of brood that has a permanently stormy cloud over its head. Not that anyone was surprised. I’d spent my whole damn life glued to Aurora’s hip, trading barbs and eye-rolls like they were currency. She was my push and my shove, my constant source of trouble and stupid, reckless entertainment. A firecracker ready to punch the first wolf who crossed her on a bad day. I missed it. I missed her chaos, her fury, the way she stole my last bite and then scolded me for laughing at her when she did it.
We spoke on the phone every night; God bless the phones and Aurora’s terrible sen
