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Severed Bond, New Life Novel Cover

Severed Bond, New Life

The morning dew clung to my boots as I made my way up the gentle slope to Connor's grave. Dawn had barely broken, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold that my son would have loved. My fingers tightened around the bouquet of white lilies—his favorite—their pristine petals standing out against the somber gray of the cemetery. One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days without his laughter. Without his small hand in mine. Without his voice calling me 'Mom.' Kaleigh, my wolf, whimpered softly in my mind. *It hurts, Sophia. It hurts so much.* "I know," I whispered, kneeling before the small marble headstone. Connor Reed, beloved son.
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Chapter 3

Dawn crept through my studio window, casting long shadows across the canvases that lined my walls. I stood before my portfolio, fingers tracing the evolution of my work through the years. The early pieces—vibrant celebrations of pack lineage, wolves running beneath crimson moons, the proud history of Silverwood—seemed to have been painted by someone else entirely.

I pulled out my most recent works, laying them side by side on the floor. Dark, twisted forests. Fractured moonlight. A small white wolf howling alone at the edge of a cliff.

"When did we become this?" I whispered to Kaleigh.

She stirred within me, her presence a constant ache beneath my skin. *When we lost everything that mattered.*

My gaze settled on the unfinished portrait of Connor tucked in the corner, his eyes half-painted but still somehow seeing right through me. I'd started it months ago, but each brushstroke felt like reopening a wound.

"I'll finish it," I promised him, though we both knew it was a lie.

The sound of heavy footsteps and scraping furniture drew me from my reverie. Following the noise, I made my way down the corridor toward the east wing—Rachel's domain.

Two Delta wolves were maneuvering large wooden crates through Rachel's doorway. I recognized Marcus's personal belongings: books, the antique chess set his father had given him, framed photographs. The sight hit me like a physical blow.

"What's happening here?" I asked, my Luna voice steady despite the tremor in my heart.

The Deltas glanced at each other nervously. "Alpha's orders, Luna," one finally replied, unable to meet my eyes.

I nodded and walked away, my dignity intact even as Kaleigh clawed at my insides. I found Marcus in his office, reviewing territory reports as if nothing had changed, as if he hadn't just made another statement about where his priorities lay.

"You're moving your things to her quarters," I said. Not a question.

He didn't even look up. "It's easier this way. She's uncomfortable otherwise."

"Easier," I repeated, the word hollow on my tongue. "And my comfort means nothing?"

Finally, he raised his eyes to mine. There was nothing there—no guilt, no regret, just mild irritation at being interrupted. "You have your studio. She needs me closer now that she's further along."

I wanted to scream, to rage, to remind him that I had needed him when our son died and he had been nowhere to be found. Instead, I simply turned and walked away, leaving the ghost of what we once were behind me.

*He's made his choice,* Kaleigh growled. *Again and again and again.*

The full moon rose three nights later, its silver light calling to the wolf within me. Traditionally, pack runs were a time of unity, of reaffirming bonds and hierarchies. The Alpha and Luna would lead, setting the pace for all who followed.

But I shifted alone, at the far edge of our territory where the forest met the mountains. My white fur gleamed in the moonlight as I stretched, feeling Kaleigh's relief at finally being free.

I could sense the pack in the distance, their collective energy pulsing through the trees. Marcus would be at the center, his massive grey form commanding and powerful. Rachel would be nearby, unable to shift due to her pregnancy but watching from a safe vantage point, surrounded by protective Deltas.

I ran along the boundary line, pushing myself until my muscles burned and my lungs ached. A few lone wolves crossed my path, pack members on patrol. They lowered their heads in deference—I was still their Luna, after all—but quickly averted their eyes and changed direction. No one wanted to run with the Alpha's discarded mate.

Kaleigh threw back her head and howled, the sound echoing across the valley. It was a cry of grief, of rage, of loneliness so profound it seemed to shake the very trees.

No answering howl came.

I waited, breath creating small clouds in the cold night air, but the silence stretched on, broken only by the distant sounds of the pack run continuing without us.

*No one is coming,* Kaleigh whispered, her voice breaking. *No one ever comes anymore.*

I turned away from the territory's heart and ran faster, deeper into the shadows where no one could see the tears that matted the fur beneath my eyes. With each stride, each breath, each beat of my heart, the same thought pounded through me:

This couldn't be all that remained of my life.

Somewhere in the darkness, Alpha Alaric's carved wolf token waited in my studio, promising something I hardly dared to name.

Freedom.

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