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Renouncing My False Bond Novel Cover

Renouncing My False Bond

I smoothed down my simple gray dress for the tenth time, trying to appear composed as I stood at the edge of the Silver Creek Pack's grand meeting hall. Today was no ordinary gathering—Alpha King William Cross himself was visiting our territory with his entourage. The air crackled with tension and excitement. Every pack member had their role during these formal alliance meetings. Mine was to remain invisible. As a wolfless werewolf—a shameful anomaly—I was only permitted to attend because Ryan had insisted. Ryan Mitchell, my childhood sweetheart, the Beta's son, and the only reason I hadn't been cast out as a rogue years ago. "They're arriving," Ryan whispered, squeezing my hand briefly before moving to his position near the front. His touch steadied my nerves, as it always had since we were children. After my mother's suicide, he'd been my anchor in a world that saw me as defective.
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Chapter 3

The harvest celebration was the one night when pack hierarchy seemed to soften, if only slightly. Golden lanterns hung from the ancient oaks surrounding our gathering space, casting warm light over tables laden with autumn's bounty. I smoothed down the front of my dress—a simple blue cotton garment I'd spent weeks sewing by hand, adding delicate embroidery along the neckline. It wasn't fancy like the dresses the higher-ranked females wore, but I'd poured my heart into every stitch.

I touched the silver moon pendant that still hung around my neck, despite everything that had happened at the pack run. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe Ryan would see me—really see me.

"What are you wearing?" Madison's voice cut through my thoughts like a blade.

I turned to find her standing behind me, her perfect white dress shimmering with silver accents that caught the lantern light. Several of her usual followers flanked her, their expressions a uniform mask of disdain.

"I made it myself," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Madison's perfectly shaped eyebrows arched. "Obviously. It looks like something a rogue would wear after scavenging through trash."

Her followers tittered, the sound drilling into my ears. Something inside me—that new, hardening part—refused to bend this time.

"At least I can create something with my own hands," I replied, my voice quiet but firm. "Instead of just taking what others give me."

The crowd around us fell silent. No one spoke to the Alpha King's daughter that way, especially not a wolfless nobody.

Madison's face flushed with rage. "How dare you speak to me like that? Do you know who I am?"

"Emma." Ryan's voice came from behind me, his tone sharp with warning. I hadn't seen him approach, but suddenly his fingers were digging into my arm, hard enough to bruise. "Apologize. Now."

I looked up at him in disbelief. "She insulted me first."

Ryan's grip tightened, his eyes cold in a way I'd never seen before. He pulled me slightly away from the crowd, but not far enough that we couldn't be overheard.

"You will apologize to her," he hissed, "or I swear by the Moon Goddess, I will reject whatever pathetic excuse for a bond you think we have. Right here. Right now."

The world tilted beneath my feet. Rejection—the formal, ritualistic severing of a mate bond—was the cruelest fate that could befall a werewolf. My mother had taken her own life after being rejected by my father. The pain was said to be unbearable.

"You wouldn't," I whispered, searching his face for any sign of the boy who had once protected me.

"Try me." His voice was flat, emotionless. "Madison is the daughter of the Alpha King. You are nothing. Choose wisely, Emma."

With trembling legs, I turned back to Madison, whose smirk told me she'd heard every word. The entire pack was watching now, the celebration forgotten in the face of more enticing entertainment—my humiliation.

I sank into a low bow, my eyes fixed on Madison's expensive shoes. "I apologize for my disrespect, Alpha King's daughter. Please forgive my inappropriate behavior."

"Rise," Madison commanded, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Your apology is accepted. This time."

As I straightened, I caught sight of Ryan's approving nod. The pendant felt like it was burning against my skin.

I backed away from the gathering, then turned and ran, tears blurring my vision as I headed for the one place I might find solace—Healer Elara's hut at the edge of our territory.

The old healer opened her door before I could knock, as if she'd been expecting me. One look at my face, and she ushered me inside without a word.

"He threatened to reject me," I sobbed as she guided me to a chair near her hearth. "In front of everyone. Over nothing."

Elara's ancient hands, gnarled but gentle, tilted my chin up. She examined the pendant around my neck, then the bruises forming on my arm where Ryan had gripped me.

"Child," she said softly, dampening a cloth to clean the tears from my face, "a true mate would never inflict such pain. Not on his body, not on his soul."

"But I love him," I whispered, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.

"Do you?" Elara asked, her wise eyes searching mine. "Or do you love the idea of belonging to someone? There is a difference, Emma Hayes."

Her words settled into me like stones dropping into still water, sending ripples through everything I thought I knew.

* * *

The next morning, I volunteered to deliver the weekly scroll reports to the Beta's office—a mindless task that would keep me away from Ryan and Madison. The pack house was quiet as I made my way through the corridors, most members still recovering from the previous night's celebration.

As I approached the Beta's study, I heard familiar voices—Ryan and his friends, their tones relaxed and jovial. I slowed my steps, not wanting to interrupt.

"So she just bowed to Madison like a trained puppy?" one of them asked, followed by raucous laughter.

"What else would she do?" Ryan's voice replied, so casual it made my blood run cold. "Emma's my lap dog—no wolf, no rank, but totally devoted. Threaten to reject her, and she'll do anything."

"Like a rogue begging for scraps," another voice added.

More laughter. My fingers went numb, the scrolls slipping from my grasp and clattering to the floor. The voices inside went silent.

I didn't wait to see if they'd investigate the noise. I ran, the pendant bouncing against my chest with each step, no longer a symbol of hope but a mark of my own foolishness.

The tears didn't come this time. Instead, something else was building inside me—something that felt dangerously close to hate.

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