Sable
The silence is a physical weight. It presses down on my shoulders, suffocating. My family closes ranks around me, a shield of fury against the hundreds of staring eyes. Leo’s rage is a furnace at my back. My father’s iron will is a wall at my side. My mother’s soft weeping is the sound of my world cracking apart.
“I will kill him,” Leo snarls, his voice low and shaking. He tries to lunge past my father, but my dad’s arm shoots out, blocking his path.
“Not now, son,” my father says, his voice a low growl. His eyes are locked on Alpha Marcus.
“Marcus. A word.”
It is not a request. It is the pack Beta, a man who has bled for Silvermoon for thirty years, issuing a command. The two most powerful men in the pack stand face to face. The tension is so thick I can barely breathe.
“There is nothing to discuss, James,” Alpha Marcus says, his voice calm, but his eyes cold. “Damon made his choice. It is the choice of a true Alpha. The pack comes first.”
“The pack is its people,” my father shoots back. “It is loyalty. It is honor. Your son has shown he possesses none of that. You let this stand, and you condone it.”
The threat hangs in the air. A challenge to the Alpha’s authority. A line is being drawn, and my family is on one side, with their Alpha on the other. This is how packs fracture. This is how civil wars begin.
I look at my father’s face, his jaw set in stubborn loyalty to me. I see my brother, vibrating with a violence that will get him exiled or killed. I see my mother, her face pale with terror at what is unfolding.Damon has already broken me. I will not let him break them too.
“Stop,” I say. My voice is a croak. I clear my throat and try again, louder this time. “Stop it. All of you.”
My father turns to me, his expression softening for just a second. “Sable, cub. This is not your fault. This is a matter of honor.”
“It’s my honor,” I say, finding a sliver of steel in my voice. “Let me be the one to defend it.”
I push past him, past my mother’s pleading hand, and walk back into the center of the silent room. I feel their pity, their morbid curiosity. I force myself to meet their gazes.
My eyes find Damon. He stands near the great hall doors, watching me, his face an unreadable mask. That black, corrosive cord of the rejected bond yanks at my heart, a constant, sickening pull.
“He is right,” I announce, my voice ringing with a strength I do not feel. A gasp ripples through the crowd. My family stares at me in disbelief. “An Alpha needs a strong mate. The pack needs a strong Luna.”
I pause, letting the words sink in. “I am wolfless. This is a fact. I will not be the weakness that costs Silvermoon its legacy.”
“Sable, no,” my mother whispers, her voice breaking.
I turn my head just enough to look at Damon. His eyes narrow slightly. He expected tears. He expected me to beg. He did not expect this.
“I cannot belong to an Alpha who sees me as a liability,” I continue, speaking to the entire pack. “I cannot stay in a home where my presence creates division and threatens my family.”
I take a deep breath. The next words feel like they are tearing me apart from the inside out.
“I, Sable Vance, renounce my place in the Silvermoon pack.”
The words fall into a dead, shocked silence. Renouncing your pack is a fate worse than death. It means becoming rogue. Alone. Hunted.
Damon’s composure finally cracks. A flicker of something, shock, maybe even regret, flashes in his eyes before he masters it. My father takes a step toward me, his face a picture of horror.
“You will do no such thing.”
“I already have,” I say softly, then turn and walk toward the exit. I don’t run. I walk with my head held high, each step an agony. The pack parts for me. No one dares to speak. No one dares to stop me.
I don’t look at my family. I can’t. If I see their faces, I will break, and I have to see this through.
Back in my room, the party decorations look like a cruel joke. I move on autopilot, grabbing a worn rucksack from my closet. I stuff in a few sets of practical clothes, all the cash I have saved, and a small, worn wooden wolf Leo carved for me years ago. A reminder of a time when everything was simple.
A single piece of paper sits on my desk. I pick up a pen, but my hand shakes too much. What can I even say? Goodbye? I’m sorry?
I finally just write three words. ‘I love you.’ I place it on my pillow, a final, silent message to the family I am leaving behind to save them.
I don’t use the door. I slide open my window, the way Damon and I used to do as kids, sneaking out to name the constellations.The memory is a fresh stab of pain. I swing my legs over the sill and drop silently to the soft grass below.The moon is high and cold, the same moon that witnessed my bond and my rejection. Under its unforgiving light, I turn my back on the only home I have ever known.
I don’t look back. Looking back would break me.
And I have a long way to go before I can afford to fall apart.
