Familial Bond 단편 소설 & Independence Countdown 소설

In the Blackthorn Pack, every wolf born into an Alpha bloodline received a moonstone after their first shift. At eighteen, during the Pack Recognition Ceremony, the Alpha set it into a ceremonial collar, marking their official place in the Pack. A week before my twin sister Sienna and I turned eighteen, my brother Rowan brought home our ceremonial collars. Sienna’s glittered with two moonstones. “Why does she have my moonstone?” I asked. Rowan shrugged. “Sienna wanted hers to look more special.” Then he handed me an old ceremonial collar pulled from the Pack vault. It was tarnished, with half the moonstone missing. Mother sighed. “You’re still being recognized as an Alpha’s daughter, Aria. Does the collar really matter that much?” All my life, I had been expected to give up one thing after another for Sienna. I thought the Recognition Ceremony would finally prove that I had a place in this Pack too. I was wrong. They took my moonstone and gave it to her. My phone vibrated with Moonridge University’s final admission deadline—the most prestigious university in the werewolf world. the most prestigious university in the werewolf world, nearly three thousands miles from my pack. This time, I pressed ACCEPT. They could celebrate Sienna as the daughter they wanted. I was done fighting for a place in a Pack that had never made room for me.

After I discovered that my Mafia husband, Don Dante Amato, still couldn't let go of his first love, Bianca, and the son she had with another man, I taught our son to call him "Don Amato." When our son came down with a fever, Bianca called my husband away in the middle of the night. I stroked his burning forehead and taught him to say, "Goodbye, Don Amato." Dante had promised to present our son to the whole Amato Family at a family dinner — to formally announce him as the future heir. Yet on the night of the dinner, Bianca called, crying that her own son had no father by his side. Dante left without a second thought. I didn't argue. I just had our son stand in front of the entire Family and explain, "Don Amato has someone more important to take care of." It wasn't until Dante finally realized how disappointed we were in him that he suggested we take a family portrait together. Outside the photo studio, Bianca called again, crying for Dante's help. "Dante, the kids at daycare are making fun of Gabe for not having a dad. Can you come pick him up and pretend to be his father?" Dante looked conflicted. He turned to our son, as if about to explain everything. But this time, our son didn't need my reminder. He waved Dante off. "It's okay, Don Amato. Go take care of the other child. Mom and I will manage the family photo just fine."

My parents are music professors, and their university is always hosting these music salons and exchange events. But they never took me. After I graduated from college, I was desperate to see what it was like, so I begged my mother for a visitor's pass. She was busy helping my sister Ella fill out an application for one of those concerts, and she cut me off cold: "Everyone attending is a top-tier musician. You can't even read sheet music—walking in there, you'd just stick out like a sore thumb." A few days later, I stood in the freezing wind, listening to the applause rolling out from the auditorium. My sister stood at center stage, performing alongside a bunch of renowned musicians. That night, my mom posted a proud photo of Ella's performance on social media. Graceful. Composed. Radiant. The comments were all flattery—until one relative asked: [Why didn't you bring your Seraphina along to soak up some of the spotlight?] My mom replied: [She has zero musical talent. Too much of a philistine. Not her scene.] I stared at my phone, glancing at the six-figure offer from Wall Street, and let out a helpless laugh. My mom always favored the kid she thought was brilliant—never had a clue that I was shining somewhere else entirely. Three days left until I move out of Ohio for good. I'm taking everything she called "philistine" about me and walking out of her precious little music kingdom forever.

When the wildfire reached our family’s vacation home, I dragged my younger sister, Chloe, out through the back door. By the time we circled around to the front, our parents were begging the firefighters to go inside. “We only have time to search one bedroom before the wind shifts,” a firefighter warned. “Which one?” “The upstairs bedroom!” Mom cried without hesitation. “Please save our younger daughter!” Dad gripped her shoulders. “She has asthma. She won’t survive the smoke.” Neither of them mentioned which room I had been sleeping in. My sister rushed past me. “Mom! Dad! I’m here!” Mom pulled her into her arms, sobbing, while Dad checked her for injuries and called for a paramedic. I stood only a few feet away, barefoot and bleeding. Neither of them looked at me. Finally, a firefighter noticed me. “Are you here with family?” I watched my parents cling to the daughter they had chosen. “No,” I said. “I came alone.” Then I opened the email offering me a year-long exchange at the University of Cambridge. I pressed Accept. My flight left in seventy-two hours. In three days, I would begin a new life in England. My family had no idea they were already losing their other daughter.

My Alpha Mate, Damon Ashford, missed our son Finn's sixth birthday—because he was too busy tending to his adopted sister's pup. That night, while packing up Finn's room, I found a recording in his mechanical wolf toy. A tiny, childish whisper. "Little wolf, my daddy's not here. Will you stay and grow up with me instead?" The next day at the pack school, the instructor casually asked why Finn's father hadn't shown up for the ceremony. Finn gripped his crayon and answered softly: "Daddy's busy. He's the pack's Alpha." "His time belongs to his work. It belongs to Aunt Serena, because she needs his care. But it doesn't belong to me." The parents nearby shifted, at a loss for words. But I felt nothing. Just the quiet, final snap of disappointment. A month later, Damon finally remembered. He wanted to make up for the missed birthday. He walked into the pups' room and saw Finn sorting through identity cards. Finn slipped the card with Damon's face into the "Pack Members" slot. Then left the "Family" column completely empty. Damon reached for it, but Finn looked up, eyes distant and cold. "Alpha Ashford. Please don't put the card in the wrong place." "Dad belongs in the family. You only belong to the pack." The color drained from Damon's face. Instantly.

On our third wedding anniversary, Lorenzo Falcone came back from Sicily with a chest of jewels. Without thinking, he slid the chest toward my sister Vella and told her to pick first. I stared, eyes wide, and the disappointment slipped out before I could stop it: "Lorenzo. It's our anniversary. Don't I get to choose first?" He faltered for just a second. Then he said: "Lily, as a Donna, you should know how to be gracious. You can't always act like a little girl." I'd heard that for over twenty years. Since I was a child, the eldest daughter of the family, I'd long learned to step aside. Give up the horse I loved. Give up my grandfather's keepsake. Give up the chance to study abroad. Give up the voice that should've been mine. My father told me to be sensible. My mother told me to protect my little sister. When I met Lorenzo, I really thought—foolishly—that I was done giving things up. He'd pull me behind him when the gunshots rang out. He'd hold my hand when the nightmares jolted me awake. He'd say it in front of everyone, so sure of himself: "Lily is my only choice." But I was wrong. Not long after we got married, Vella moved in with us. She said she couldn't bear to be apart from me. Lorenzo promised he would treat her like his own flesh and blood, give her a little extra care. But somewhere along the way, extra attention turned into her first—without him even noticing. After she'd made her picks, she handed me the leftover brooch. Old. Tarnished. "This one suits you, sis." I looked at her. Forced a bitter smile. "Take it all. I don't want any of it." Quietly, I slipped my wedding ring off my finger and tucked it into my bag. Three days from now, I'll place it beside the divorce papers on his pillow. And then I'll walk away. From him. From this city that was never mine to begin with.

After being rushed to the hospital and brought back from another relapse, I vaguely heard my family arguing. "This is already the second time this month. When will it end?! Why isn't he dead yet?!" "Mom, don't say that! I've decided, I'll start working right after graduation to earn money!" My dad scolded my older brother, "But you have such good grades. You've already secured a spot for postgraduate studies. You should keep studying, let us take care of the money!" I lay on the bed, crying silently. After three years of being tormented by illness, I couldn't keep going anymore. This time, I chose to let go.

My adoptive brother, Ryan Wellington, saved me from a car accident. When he woke up, he lost the memory of my parents ever finding me, their true biological son, or of anything that had happened since. He still believed he was their only son. He pointed at me and asked, "Who is he?" My mom, Tina Wellington, was originally holding my hand. When she saw how anxious he looked, she slowly let go. She said, "His name is Leon. He's just a distant relative who's staying with us." My dad, Joseph Wellington, and my older sister, Claire Wellington, went along with it. My fiancee, Natalie Evans, stood nearby and never mentioned our engagement as well. The doctor said he couldn't handle too much stress, so everyone asked me to play along. In the first week, he moved into my room and took the watch Grandpa had left me. During the first month, my parents turned my birthday party into a recovery celebration and introduced to everyone that I was an orphan the family was supporting. By the third month, Claire had cropped me out of our family portrait, and my fiancee had put my engagement ring on Ryan's finger. Whenever I protested, they reminded me, "If Ryan hadn't saved you, you'd be the one lying in a hospital bed." On the day of my engagement party, he wore my suit and accepted everyone's congratulations with my fiancee on his arm. After the party, when no one was around, he leaned close to me and said, chuckling, "This suit was made for you, but it really does fit me better." I had barely asked if he had ever gotten his memory back a long time ago when Claire cut me off coldly. "Enough! Natalie already said she'll have another ceremony with you once Ryan gets better. Do you have to make a scene today?" My parents accused me of being so jealous that I would slander the man who had saved my life. That was when I finally gave up on them. If this family only had room for one son, I was done fighting for a place.

My foster sister, Sylvia Blackwood, was so terrified of being bonded to the cold, merciless Alpha King that she rigged the lot the moment it was my turn to draw. I pulled out the Alpha King. The whole hall erupted. I looked toward my fated mate, Raymond Hale—but he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were locked on Sylvia, and only her. My brother, Carl Blackwood, didn't call out the switch either. He just let them whisper and laugh. I stood there frozen, eyes burning red. Everyone treated it like a joke. They never thought I'd actually go through with bonding with a wolf that dangerous. But staring at the same faces who once swore they'd love me forever—I finally knew. I was done. I was leaving.

To teach me independence, my parents enforced a fifty-fifty rule from the time I was little. Half the rent for my room. Half the cost of a breakfast sandwich. Even when a high fever sent me to the ER, they added half the bill to my debt and reminded me, "Get a summer job. Don't make a habit of owing people money." I always believed they just wanted me to become independent. Then my younger sister, Chloe, was born. Whenever she broke something and owed Mom money, all she had to do was give her a kiss. "All right, sweetheart. Debt paid." When Chloe wanted piano lessons, she made Dad breakfast once, and he happily paid for an entire year. But every dollar spent on me went straight into the family ledger. On my eighteenth birthday, I looked at the cake and quietly asked Mom, "Can I mow the lawn to cover my share?" She frowned. "Sophie, you pay what you owe. Don't look for shortcuts." "You still owe us $1,704.08 from last month. When are you going to pay it back?" I didn't answer. I only tightened my grip on the letter in my pocket offering me a full scholarship to New York University. Soon. Once I paid it off, my debt to this family would be settled. After that, I would never owe them another cent.

My family is always tricking me into believing there's an emergency over the smallest things. When Dad faked an attack signal, I forfeited a championship final, only to discover he'd simply misplaced his favorite newspaper. The time Grandma claimed her wolf was vanishing, I missed my promotion review, only to find out she just wanted me to clean the lawn. Every single time, I rush to their side in a panic. And all I get is the same perfunctory, casual explanation—"We just wanted you to come home sooner." Eventually, it becomes an unspoken game of testing how quickly I will come running. On the night of the Full Moon Festival, I'm negotiating at the Alliance headquarters when my younger sister, Leah Holmes, suddenly calls. "Erin, Mom's wolf is fading… She keeps calling for you." The next second, my blood bond with Mom suddenly weakens. A sharp pain grips my heart. I can barely manage to excuse myself before bracing against the wall and rushing out of the conference room. But when I arrive home, Mom is on the terrace, carving a roast turkey. Upon seeing me, Leah excitedly waves her phone. "I win! She didn't even grab her coat!" Mom holds up the moonstone used to simulate distress signals and chides her, laughing. "You should tell Erin now. Look how terrified she is." My future mate, Nolan Harding, walks over and holds my cold hands in his. In the past, whenever my blood telepathy acted up, he'd always hold my hands like this and stay with me until the pain in my chest subsided. But this time, he advises me in a lowered voice, "Leah spent all afternoon preparing this. She just wanted everyone to have a happy holiday. Take a moment to calm down before blaming her." Leah bursts out laughing behind him. "Erin, I'm not the only one to blame. Nolan was the one who taught Mom how to use the moonstone." I slowly withdraw my hands. Of course. He knows better than anyone how to make me feel safe, and how to make me afraid. That night, I accept a three-year transfer to the West Coast branch and withdraw my application to form a mate bond.

My mother dragged me out of my biological father's brutality, and I thought we had finally escaped. Then she married the Don of the Falcone family. The woman who once fought to protect me completely changed. To secure my stepfather's approval and coddle his beloved Sofia, she stood by and let them turn me into a servant in the house I was supposed to call home. Every time I pushed back, they pushed harder. Every time I begged to be seen, I was met with contempt. My biological father's fists left scars on my body. This family's marks went deeper—into my bones. So I stopped. If they never wanted me there, I would stop breaking myself for their hollow approval. I would take my own life back. In seven days, I would leave. Harvard acceptance in hand—Boston waiting.

I've been married for eight years, but my husband won't let our daughter call him "Dad" because his childhood sweetheart's son struggles with severe depression. After he missed our daughter's parent-teacher meeting again because he was with Susan Lawson and her son, I decided to leave. I prepare the divorce papers and decide to leave with my daughter. I go to her school and find her homeroom teacher, Laura Anderson. "Ms. Anderson, I'd like to apply for a school transfer." She looks surprised. "Why the sudden decision to transfer?" I reply calmly, "Her dad has been working out of town, but he's finally settled down and wants us to move there." Laura sighs. "Well, that's not bad. I always thought you were a single mom." I smile. I'm not, for now. But I'll be one very soon.

The night Chloe, the adopted daughter, turned eighteen and completed her first shift, my mother, Grace, stripped me of my family identity right in front of the entire pack. My brother, Caleb, slapped me across the face so hard that my vision went blurry. “Listen to me loud and clear. From today on, this family only has one daughter, and I only have one sister.” I stared at Chloe standing in the very center of the crowd. Mom held her tightly in her arms while Chloe sobbed like a fragile porcelain doll, but her eyes landed on me with chilling precision. The wolf inside me went quiet. It wasn’t a whimper, but something much deeper. I felt the string—the pack bond—that once tied me to this family snap and vanish. I finally understood one thing: to this werewolf family, I had never been part of them. So, I left. Captain Vance had been inviting me to join the Vanguard Legion’s closed training camp for months anyway, and that very night, I signed my name on the agreement. Mom and Caleb thought I was just throwing a temper tantrum. They waited for me to come crawling back, tail between my legs, begging for forgiveness. However, a month later, when a thick layer of dust had settled in my bedroom, they finally went looking for me at the Werewolf Preparatory Academy. The academy told them that my file had been sealed and destroyed by the Werewolf Council. It was classified, and there was no way to access it. Sitting in the backseat of Captain Vance’s bulletproof car, I was in agonizing pain as I severed that final bond with my own hands. At that exact moment, panic finally set in for them.

The day I married Santino Connor, he went from the infamous heir of a mafia fortune to a broke nobody. When he handed me a plastic ring in a shabby basement and asked if I would start from scratch with him, I looked at the man I had loved since I was a girl and nodded without a second thought. "Santino, as long as it was with you, I would do anything." For him, I worked more than ten hours a day until my stomach bled from the stress. Our son, from the moment he could walk, trailed me from one odd job to the next. I thought my love could eventually build us a life in the sun. Until, at a lavish banquet where I was serving the elite, he showered me with cash from his seat at the head of the table. "What's that thing crawling on the floor? It's blocking my view!" "Take the money and get out of my sight!" When I saw the woman by his side, her face an eerie copy of my own, I finally understood. To him, this was just a game, and I was the only one playing for keeps. If he was going to go to such lengths to deceive me, then it was time for his game to end. What he didn't know was that one month later, he would be tearing the world apart to find me.

After joining the nation's top research lab as a sophomore, everyone assumes I've taken shortcuts to get there. Mom throws away the handmade gift I had spent days crafting and says with disdain, "I don't have a daughter who's this shameless." Andreas Fitzgerald, my fiance, doesn't hold back, either. He warns coldly, "Remember your place as Mrs. Fitzgerald." Later, when my younger sister, Elaine Wilde, destroys my left hand, they all pressure me to drop the matter. I wake up in the hospital, pain crawling up my arm, and I know exactly what I have to do. Without hesitation, I dial my mentor, George Landon's, number. "I'm ready to join the classified national rocket program."

I've decided to leave the country. I'm done competing with the son my parents raised in my place. I'm done begging them to love me. But the parents who always favored him are suddenly panicking. "Bennett, why don't you fight with your brother for our attention anymore?" A week ago, an earthquake hit while we were on vacation. Dad scooped up the son they'd raised, still fast asleep, and ran for the exit. Even as Mom fled in a panic, she didn't forget to grab the stray dog he'd brought home. They flew back to Port Ellery that same night and posted more than a dozen family photos, celebrating that they'd made it out alive. Not one of them remembered me. I was their real son, and I was still buried under the rubble, waiting to be rescued. That night, I called my mentor. "Professor Everard, I'll go to Valdoria with you. I'm going to settle there, and I'm never coming back."

My parents were set up in Harbor City. They not only lost their entire fortune but were also left with a mountain of debt. They changed out of their usual polished shirts and dresses, their faces filled with worry. "Millie, which one of us do you want to stay with while we pay off our debts?" In my first life, I felt sorry for my father because he had trouble walking, so I accompanied him to work at a construction site. However, when a steel beam came crashing down, he shoved me away and shielded my adopted sister beneath him. The beam crushed my skull, and I died on the spot. In my second life, I chose my frail mother. I worked five jobs a day to care for her and desperately earn money to repay our debts. However, my mother gave every cent I earned to my adopted sister and sent her on a trip around the world. I was in the final stage of leukemia and could not afford my medication. In the end, I died in agony inside a basement rental apartment. This time, I hesitated as I faced my parents’ expectant gazes. I had just stepped out of the room when I heard the disappointment in my father’s voice. "Millie has really been spoiled rotten. We only tested her on a whim, yet we immediately exposed her true nature." My adopted sister, Lily Brooks, had just been accepted into a psychology program. She sighed. "Psychology says that only children who grow up pampered tend to become cold and self-centered. They have to experience some hardship before they can learn their lesson." My mother showered her with praise. "Lily, your idea of pretending to be bankrupt was brilliant. We can’t tell Millie the truth until we completely cure her spoiled, vain habits and turn her into the person we want her to be." My entire body trembled violently. The suffering I had endured in two lifetimes had only been a lesson meant to teach me obedience. Just as my heart sank into despair, the system I had not heard from in so long came back online. [The host’s emotional distress has reached a critical level. Would you like to prepare to leave this world?]

In my third year after joining the werewolf guard, I single-handedly cut off the rogues' supply line during a raid. For my actions, the chairman of the werewolf council awarded me a Silver Moon Insignia and granted me the right to live in a four-bedroom penthouse apartment at Moonshadow Estate. Mom once told me that if we ever moved into a bigger home, she would give me a bedroom that belonged to me alone. On the night all the furniture was moved in, I searched every one of the four bedrooms, but there wasn't the slightest trace of me in any of them. The master bedroom belonged to my parents. My older sister, Kalista, had taken the sunniest south-facing suite. My younger brother, Keane, had a room filled with newly purchased combat manuals and an entire wall of cabinets for his hunting boots. The remaining bedroom had been turned into Kalista's walk-in closet, and all my luggage had been piled outside the bathroom. I asked Mom, "Where am I supposed to sleep?" She froze for a moment before pointing at the brand-new sofa in the living room. "You're usually out on night patrol and hardly ever come home. If you occasionally stay the night, isn't the sofa good enough?" Dad frowned as well. "Family members should be considerate of one another. Although the pack rewarded you with this apartment, it belongs to the whole family too. Be generous. Don't start fighting over rooms the moment we move in." I lowered my head and looked at the insignia in my hand. Suddenly, I laughed. So the large home I had risked my life to earn had room for Kalista's clothes, Keane's equipment, and my parents' pride. But somehow, there was no room for me. That night, I received an encrypted message from the captain of the guard. [Outpost 3 on the northern frontier urgently needs a werewolf guard willing to serve there long-term. The assignment involves three years of closed rotation under harsh conditions, but each guard will be provided with private quarters.] I looked up at the four closed doors and quietly typed two words in reply. [I'm going.] If there was no place for me here, then I would go somewhere that had reserved a place for me.

I came home from a business trip. My daughter Anna threw herself into my arms and held up a hand-strung necklace she had clearly worked hard on. "Mommy, this is the birthday present I made for Mommy Lena. She's going to love it, right?" My heart dropped. Lena was my husband Preston's secretary. My daughter remembered her birthday. She had forgotten that today was mine. It wasn't the first time. She was always attached to Lena, hanging off her arm and asking, "Mommy Lena, when are you and Daddy taking me back to the amusement park?" Even when she ran a fever, the name she called out over and over was Mommy Lena. I corrected her, disappointed. "Anna, I'm your mommy, not Lena." But Anna pushed me away and shouted, "You're the bad mommy! I don't want you! I want Mommy Lena to be my mommy forever!" In that moment I could almost hear my own heart cracking. A second later, Preston shoved the door open. He scooped up the wailing Anna and turned on me. "Winnie, what kind of mother are you? Your child is crying like this and you can't even be bothered! "Anna's right. As a mother you're not half of what Lena is. I honestly don't know what I was thinking when I married you!" I watched their backs disappear down the hall and felt something go out in me. So this was what it had bought me. Six years ago I gave up my name and my claim as heir to the Family, all for love, and what I got in return was the contempt of my husband and my daughter. If that was how it was, then it was time for me to go home to the Family.