Chapter 8: I Reject Him Before the Altar

"I'm not apologizing."

My voice cut through the murmuring crowd.

Damien froze. "What did you say?"

"I said, I am not apologizing." I pointed to a nearby building. "There's a security memory crystal on that building. It records everything. Shall we review the footage?"

The color drained from Seraphina's face.

"No... don't bother," she said weakly. "It was probably just an accident..."

But her words were cut off by a pained groan.

"The energy backlash!" She clutched her chest, her face turning even paler. "The laurel tree's repelling energy is too strong!"

Damien immediately scooped her into his arms. "Hang on. I'm taking you to the healers."

He sprinted across the street to the healing center without a single glance back at me.

The crowd began to disperse, but the whispers continued.

"That Isla is so cold-blooded."

"The poor girl is pregnant and hurt, and she won't even say sorry."

"No wonder the Alpha prefers the gentle one."

I stood there, staring in the direction of the healing center.

Then I turned and walked away.

The next day was the final day before the ceremony.

In the morning, I shipped all my luggage.

All that was left was a small backpack with my essentials and my plane ticket.

A three o'clock flight.

At ten that night, Damien finally returned.

"How is Seraphina?" I asked.

"Stable," he said, his voice frigid. "The pack healer said if she hadn't gotten there in time, she could have lost the pup."

"That's good."

Damien stalked over to me, the anger still simmering in his eyes.

"At the ceremony tomorrow," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument, "you will make a public apology to her."

"What ceremony?"

"Our Mating Ceremony." He frowned. "Did you forget?"

I looked at him and suddenly wanted to laugh.

"You really think there's going to be a ceremony?"

"Of course there is. I've already informed all the Elders." Damien's tone grew impatient. "For the sake of the pack's honor, you need to be the bigger person."

His phone suddenly rang.

"Damien, I'm not feeling well," Seraphina's voice came through the speaker. "Can you come be with me?"

Damien shot to his feet. "I'm on my way."

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

"Nine a.m. tomorrow. Don't be late," he commanded without looking back. "The ceremony will proceed on time."

The moment the door clicked shut, I let the silence settle.

Then, I spoke the words into the empty room, each one a final, liberating vow.

"I, Isla, reject you, Damien."

He was already gone.

I waited until morning.

Sitting at the dining table, I took out the calendar marked with the ceremony date.

With a red pen, on today's date, I wrote:

The Bond is Rejected.

Then I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the place I had once called home.

On the way to the airport, I sent a single text to the Head Elder.

Initiate the Severing Ritual. The Mating Ceremony is canceled.

By 9:30 a.m., my plane was in the air.

Below me, the city—the pack, my past, him—shrank until it was swallowed by the clouds.

I pictured Damien in that moment.

He would have arrived at the sacred altar by now.

Dressed in his finest robes, waiting for his bride.