Page 5 of Torin

I pick up a bottle and raise it.

“Wait,” I call. “Aren’t we supposed to toast the groom?”

A roar of approval goes up.

Cade turns toward me, grinning.

“To Cade,” I say, raising the bottle higher. “My wonderful husband.”

“That’s our fucking alpha!”

“Cade always gets what he wants!”

People close around him immediately. Someone demands a speech. Someone else starts chanting his name.

I grab a bunch of beers and pass them into the crowd. “Here.”

Hands snatch at them without anyone even looking at me.

Within seconds Cade has disappeared into a morass of leather vests and raised bottles.

My father has turned away too. He’s busy talking to two older club members by the fire.

Tasha is busy pouring some pink liquor into her girlfriends’ mouths.

Nobody is watching me.

Adrenaline burns through me.

I take a slow step backward, then another, keeping my expression loose. The kitchen doors are twenty feet away.

The doors swing closed behind me and the noise drops sharply.

I take in stainless-steel counters, fluorescent lights, a sink overflowing with dishes.

A young shifter in an apron looks up from the grill, eyes widening.

“Cade sent me for another bottle,” I say quickly.

“Oh. Uh—yeah. Storage room’s through there.”

“Thanks.” I keep going.

Beyond the kitchen, there’s a dark hallway with a glowing EXIT sign at the end.

Ten steps.

Five.

I push it open. Cold mountain air hits my face.

The workshop is a dark shape at the far end of the yard.

I start walking toward it, the dress catching around my legs with every step.

The smell of motor oil and cold metal hits my nostrils.

Please still be there.