Chapter 11
By the end of that birthday night, my parents had publicly disowned her, casting her out of The Ambersy Pack.
The news spread like wildfire, tarnishing her reputation beyond redemption.
With The Ambersy Pack’s influence stretching far and wide, no other pack dared offer her refuge.
She became a rogue, forced into a life of solitude and survival. No one knows where she went, and truthfully, I couldn’t care less.
Alpha Kennard fared no better.
Stripped of his title for harboring rogues and abusing wolfsbane, he became a maniac.
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The weight of his downfall crushed him; his once–proud demeanor dissolved into a shadow of delusion and despair.
He wandered the streets aimlessly, mumbling to himself about lost power and conspiracies. Eventually, the Shadow Pack’s Werewolf Council committed him to a mental institution.
As for me, I didn’t want to stay at The Ambersy Pack any longer after everything.
My parents pleaded with me, their
desperation dripping from every word, but I felt nothing.
No loyalty, no affection–just a cold detachment.
These were the people who had stood by
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silently as I suffered, who had enabled Alpha Cynthia’s cruelty and dismissed me as unworthy.
“I’m done,” I told them, packing my bags.
My father tried to reason with me, his tone soft for once. My mother even wept. But it was too late. Without so much as a backward glance, I walked out of the packhouse and out of their lives.
I left the continent altogether, seeking a fresh start far away from the ghosts of my past.
Years have passed since then.
I built my own pack–The Meteor Pack.
My new life is free from the people and events that once caused me pain.
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I live solely for myself.