Capture your union at the city’s most iconic threshold.
Roman grinned as he unlocked the car. “Golden Gate Bridge. Lucien’s really pulling out all the stops. Maybe there’ll be fireworks at the finish line.”
I kicked off my boots as soon as I was in the passenger seat, propping my bare feet on the dashboard. The city flickered past the windows-neon signs, the soft glow of apartment windows, the sharp sparkle of the skyline in the distance. Roman’s playlist filtered through the speakers-some indie band he’d introduced me to that sounded like summer nights and possibilities. My toes tapped along with the rhythm.
The bridge came into view, its red arches glowing in the night, the lights spanning like a string of stars. The second we stepped out of the car, the wind hit-cool and strong, whipping my hair into my face. I pushed it back, laughing as I tried to catch my balance on the uneven pavement.
“All right,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let’s give Lucien his money shot.”
Roman raised a brow. “What’s the plan?”
I grinned, stepping in front of him and striking a cheesy pose, one hand on my hip, the other outstretched toward the bridge like I was presenting it on a game show. “Engagement shoot. Obviously.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, we’re doing this.”
Before I could react, he was beside me on one knee, one arm around my waist, the other extended dramatically like we were in the final scene of a romance movie. I shrieked, laughing, clinging to his shoulder as my phone fumbled in my grip. A group of tourists nearby started clapping, one snapping a photo like we were part of the city tour.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said.
“You’re having fun,” he said, eyes bright. “Admit it.”
I didn’t argue. Because I was. God help me, I was.
We snapped the selfie, hair wild, smiles too big to be fake, the bridge a perfect backdrop. It didn’t feel like a task or a game anymore. It felt like us.
The final clue pinged through as we climbed back into the car, leading us toward Golden Gate Park. Roman’s hand brushed mine as he shifted into gear, and neither of us moved away. The park was quiet this time of night, the air heavy with the smell of wet grass and eucalyptus.
And then I saw Eric. Because of course.
Bianca was glued to his side, all sleek ponytail and pristine athleisure, clutching her crystal water bottle like it had magical properties. Eric’s eyes flicked up, and his mouth twitched into that half-smile that had once made my stomach flip but now made my skin crawl. His gaze skipped over me, landing on Roman’s hand wrapped around mine, and that smile tightened, brittle at the edges.
“Maggie,” he said, smooth as ever. “Didn’t expect to run into you tonight.”
I kept my expression polite and neutral. “Eric. Bianca.”
Bianca gave us a glance, a single blink of disinterest, before going right back to scrolling on her phone, snapping her gum lazily. She didn’t even seem to register Roman’s presence.
Eric’s eyes, though, were sharp, taking us in like he was trying to figure out the angle. His gaze lingered a beat too long on Roman’s hand resting on my hip now, like it belonged there. And maybe it did.
He chuckled fondly, but I knew better. “Always admired how you follow your heart… no matter where it leads.” His eyes slowly dragged up Roman’s body, scrutinizing.
There it was. The subtle jab. Roman’s hand tensed, just enough that I felt it.
“And you always did have a flair for being condescending without breaking a sweat,” I said with a sweet smile.
Eric shrugged, pretending at harmlessness, but his eyes glinted. “No judgment. You look… happy. I guess that’s what matters.”
Roman shifted, his body turning slightly, and I could see the flicker of wolf beneath the surface. Calm. Controlled. Definitely not amused.
“That is what matters,” Roman said, voice easy, but there was steel under it. “She deserves to be happy.”
Eric opened his mouth, maybe to volley back another layered compliment that was really just an insult, but Roman moved. Just a step, turning as if to gesture for us to head out, but his boot caught the uneven edge of the path-whether by accident or design, I didn’t know-and in the process, his shoulder clipped Eric’s.
Eric, who was too busy trying to look unbothered, stumbled. One foot slipped on the damp stone near the fountain’s edge, arms flailing, the perfect picture of surprise and indignation. And then?-
Splash.
The sound was glorious. Echoing. Final. Bianca shrieked, jumping back as water sprayed her leggings. Her phone nearly slipped from her hand, and for the first time all night, she looked up, eyes wide with horror.
Eric surfaced, sputtering, his hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt clinging in all the wrong places. The shock on his face was funny enough, but the way he tried to recover, tried to summon even a scrap of dignity while standing ankle-deep in fountain water, was what broke me.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It bubbled up and burst out before I could stop it, leaving me breathless, tears pricking at my eyes. Roman looked down at Eric, the picture of innocence, though his lips twitched at the corners.
“San Francisco’s unpredictable terrain,” Roman said, deadpan, offering no apology, no explanation. He just stood there like the ground itself had betrayed Eric without any help at all.
Eric glared, water dripping from his nose, but he had no comeback. He hauled himself out of the fountain, his shoes squelching with every step.
Roman turned to me, his grin finally breaking through, and took my hand again. He squeezed it gently, and we started walking, leaving the sound of Eric’s wet footsteps and Bianca’s frantic scolding behind us.
We didn’t rush. Roman glanced down at me as my laughter faded into quiet giggles.
“You good?” he asked, his thumb brushing mine.
I smiled up at him. “Better than good.” I meant it.
Because for once, I didn’t feel like the girl who lost. I felt like the girl who got away.
The clue came through with that now-familiar golden shimmer, Lucien’s enchanted app practically glowing with self-satisfaction:
Bring back a token of your adventure that represents your bond. The words scrolled across my screen like the grand finale of some fairy tale, but all I felt was the quiet thrum of my heart, still trying to settle from the chaos of Eric, from the way Roman’s hand felt in mine as we’d walked away from that mess like it had never touched us.
I exhaled, glancing over at Roman as we crossed the park to the car. The city was soft around us now, the glow of the streetlights casting halos on the damp paths. His hair was mussed from the wind, shirt untucked at the hem, sleeves pushed up like he’d forgotten to care, and his smile-the real one, not the practiced one he gave the world-lingered at the corners of his mouth.
“So, what’s it gonna be?” I asked, holding up the phone like the app was some divine authority we couldn’t ignore. “What’s our grand token? A rock? A leaf? One of those free newspapers?”
Roman stopped walking, reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled something out with a quiet kind of certainty that made my chest ache before I even saw it. He opened his palm, and there it was: a crumpled streetcar ticket stub, edges worn, the ink faded from where he’d clearly fidgeted with it all night without realizing.
“This,” he said, his voice low, roughened by the night. He caught my gaze and held it, no teasing, no smirk. Only honesty. “I don’t need anything fancy to remember this night.”
He tucked the stub into my hand, folding my fingers around it like it was something precious. And maybe it was. My throat felt tight, too tight for words, so I nodded, closing my fist around the little scrap of paper that somehow meant more than anything Lucien’s app could’ve dreamed up.
We drove back to the estate in an easy, comfortable silence. Roman’s hand rested on the gearshift, brushing mine every now and then, and neither of us pulled away. The city lights gave way to the dark curves of the road leading into pack lands, the trees tall and shadowed, the night cool and clean. I stared out at it, at the soft glow of Lucien’s estate on the hill ahead, and felt that same traitorous flutter in my chest that had been building all night.
When we pulled into the circular drive, Lucien was waiting. He stood on the top step like some sort of Alpha Gatsby, arms spread wide, grinning like we’d just returned from battle rather than a scavenger hunt. Around him, the pack was gathering, some looking tired, some laughing, all of them eyeing the absurd enchanted trophy perched on a velvet-draped pedestal. It gleamed in the moonlight, silver wolves intertwined, magic making the eyes glow just faintly, like they were alive.
Roman helped me out of the car-of course he did-and we climbed the steps together, the city’s night air still clinging to our clothes, to our skin. Lucien clapped his hands, the sound echoing through the courtyard.
“Our champions return,” he announced, because subtlety had never been his thing. “And with what token of their adventure do they bless this sacred rite?”
I held up the ticket stub, my hand shaking just a little, though I told myself it was from the chill in the air. “A streetcar ticket,” I said, feeling a little ridiculous. “It’s… it’s ours.”
Lucien’s smile softened, something proud and knowing beneath all the theatrics.
“Mate energy unmatched,” he declared, as if we’d won an Olympic event. He lifted the trophy with both hands, magic sparking at his fingertips as he passed it to Roman like he was bestowing a holy relic. “May it always remind you of the bond forged this night.”
Roman took it, and when he looked at me, the weight of the evening settled between us, warm and impossible to ignore. Without thinking-at least I hoped it was without thinking-he pressed a kiss to my temple. A kiss that was meant just for me.
I let myself lean into him. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel his heartbeat, steady and sure, just long enough to breathe him in and wish, stupidly, that none of this had to be pretend. My heart gave that traitorous little stutter again, and I didn’t fight it. Not this time.
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