The Rejection Protocol

Seraphina POV

The moon hall was silent after the names were mentioned. The silence stretches across the face of the pack members which makes the wall so dense and tight. I could hear my heart beating loud and heavy. The wooden chair I sat on bit into my thighs so painfully that it made my thigh go numb. I sat staring at the back of Kaelen’s head, shiny black hair under the bright light, his stillness, eyes didn't even twitch.

The Elder council man, Elder Morrison clears his throat to break the silence. His thick voice carries the weight of authority, echoing and bouncing off the stone walls. I flinched at his voice. “The binding terms are as follows. Both parties will undergo a three-day preparation period, followed by the ceremonial bonding under the next full moon.”

Three days to prepare? How could they even think of going against the Moongoddess herself. Three days until I’m tied to him like a dog on a chain.

He continues. “During this time, both families will negotiate the terms of alliance, property sharing, and future offspring obligations.”

What did I just hear? Offspring obligation? No never, I am never going to have a child with him. He said everything as if he was giving terms on how to breed livestock, not humans. Like my body’s already stamped and claimed and signed over.

Kaelen stood, he was taller than I could recall back in the days. He strides towards the center of the hall, towards Elder Morrison.

“I seek the council's permission to speak.” His voice was quite low but loud enough to reach everyone.

Elder Morrison nods his head and permits him to speak.

Kealen turns to the crowd , he didn't even bother to look at me. And then he dropped the words. “I reject this binding. I, Kaelen Ardyn, reject Seraphina Rowe as my mate.”

The room went dead quiet before exploding with loud gasps, murmuring and whispers filled the hall. My mom’s breath catches sharp beside me. My father’s trying to push himself straighter in his chair, the wheels squeaking, before he doubles into a sequence of coughing.

The rejection hit my chest, piercing through my heart like the sword of an enemy. He didn't hesitate, and now he is trying to humiliate me again, in front of the whole pack, making sure that everyone sees me as nothing but trash.

“The lottery has chosen poorly,” Kaelen says, calm like this isn’t the sharpest blade he’s ever thrown at me. “I will not be bound to someone unworthy of the Ardyn name.”

His humiliation reminds me of back then in high school. How he hit me hard as I fell to the floor, my books scattered on the floor and his friends laughing at me.

The scholarship girl who didn’t belong in their hallways then and doesn’t belong in this one now.

My chest is on fire. My ears are ringing. Every set of eyes in this room feels like a brand pressed into my skin.

But I’m not sixteen.

I push myself up. My knees almost give, but they don’t. I make them hold. My voice comes out rough and cracked but loud enough. “Fine by me.”

The room swivels. Hundreds of faces turned towards me and you could see mouths open waiting to see me crumble. Kaelen turns like a blade to me, but I see something flashes in his eyes, something I couldn't tell.

“I did not want this either.” My throat is burning but I manage to get the words out evenly. “So congratulations. We both get what we want.”

The silence after is heavy, suffocating. Elder Morrison blinks at me, lips working like he’s chewing air. His face goes blotchy, like no one’s ever gone off script in his perfect little hall before.

“This is highly irregular,” he manages.

Kaelen doesn’t hesitate. “But it’s done. The binding is refused.”

I turn. My legs move stiff, like they don’t want to listen, but I’m moving, I’m getting out.

“Not so fast.”

Morrison’s voice cracks like a whip. He’s already dragging this huge leather book out from under his podium, pages stained yellow with time. He flips through with thick fingers, lips moving until he finds what he wants.

“According to pack law,” he says, loud now, pleased, “when a public rejection threatens community stability, Rejection Protocol Twelve takes effect.”

The words are nothing but noise at first. Protocol Twelve. My stomach sinks before my brain even catches up.

“Both parties must complete thirty days of court-ordered cohabitation and joint service in a monitored Neutral House before any dissolution hearing can proceed.”

“What?” The sound rips out of me. My voice shakes the air, but Morrison doesn’t flinch.

“Thirty days,” he says again, smooth, satisfied. “Together. Living together, working together. Proving your rejection is made in good faith and not out of temporary emotion.”

I can’t breathe. Thirty days. With him.

Kaelen’s face goes pale, his jaw clenching so tight it looks like it hurts. “That’s barbaric.”

“That’s tradition.” Morrison doesn’t even look at him when he says it. He’s watching me. Pinning me down like a hawk with a mouse. “And non-compliance voids all medical subsidies for immediate family members.”

The floor tilts under me. My father’s hacking cough tears through the hall, and Mom’s hand slaps over her mouth. The sound of her muffled sob is worse than a scream.

No. No.

“If I don’t…” My voice cuts off. My mouth’s dry, tongue stuck. “If I don’t do this…”

“You lose everything,” Morrison says to me. His smile is small and smug.

I look at my father. His hand trembles on the armrest of his chair, reaching, trying to grip something. His lips are blue at the edges. He’s breaking in front of me.

My fists shake. I can feel my nails digging into my palms.

“This is blackmail,” I spit.

“This is law,” Morrison says. And then, like he hasn’t gutted me enough, he pulls out another file, crisp and shiny with the Ardyn Foundation logo stamped on the front. “And since your father is being treated in the Ardyn wing of the hospital, refusal to comply would unfortunately require us to move him to a different facility.”

I felt anger rise in my chest. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. They’re not even pretending anymore. They’d throw my dying father out of his bed just to watch me break.

“You bastards,” I whisper. My voice is shaking but the word slices anyway.

“Language, Miss Rowe.” Morrison smirks. Smirks. He’s enjoying this.

I look at Kaelen. He stood there like a stone, unshaken by what was happening, white-knuckled fists, jaw locked, eyes burning like he wanted to light the whole council down to ash. For once, he didn’t look untouchable. And for once, he looks trapped too.

“Thirty days,” I say, my voice low, shredded.

“Thirty days.” Morrison confirms it like he’s sealing a coffin. “Neutral House on Elm Street. Cohabitation begins tonight. Bags are being prepared. One hour to collect personal items before reporting.”

The words echo in the hall. An hour. They’re not giving me time to think, to breathe, to fight. Just enough time to march myself into my own prison.