Exile Novels & Stories

POV: Callum Brennan Location: Prison Gates, then Rookeries Time: Release Day The prison gates open at dawn. I walk through them carrying nothing because I own nothing. No money. No clothes beyond the prison jumpsuit they're letting me keep. No identification. No pack status. Just scars. Trauma. And eighteen months of survival experience. The guard at the gate hands me a document. "Permanent packless status. Don't return to pack territory. Don't approach pack members. Don't attempt to rejoin any pack. You're exiled for life. Understand?"

"At least exile gives them a life, even if it's far from what they wanted." The hard-core believers were given the choice. Most chose exile. They were escorted to the far northern territories, a harsh land where several packs of isolationists lived. They'd be unwelcome in mainstream wolf society but not imprisoned. Helena chose exile as well. Her final words before leaving were more prophecy and warning. " Corruption will spread. The bridge child will doom you all. And when the realms collapse because of her existence, remember that we tried to save you." "We'll remember that you attacked children

The sudden jerk choked me, a fresh wave of pain silencing my words. "You know why," he replied, his voice low and final. He turned his back to me, addressing the pack. "From this day forward and for eternity, Selene Vance has been exiled from this pack. She is now considered a rogue. If she is found packless, or even near our border lines, you are allowed to kill her on sight." Ouch.

Vivian said, stepping forward to the podium. Gesturing toward me, her voice echoed through the room. “This sort of offense is punishable by death or, at most, if we are to show mercy.” she smirked at me as she dropped the last word.“exile from the werewolf continent.” Exile? That was the same as condemning me to death. Being exiled would mean I wouldn’t be accepted in any other pack. If I went to rogue territory? It was a one-way ticket to my death. Was this it? Time for my story to end?

"I want her exiled." The room erupted again, louder this time. Exile was serious—it meant being cast out from the pack, severing all bonds, becoming a rogue. It was one step below execution. "No!" Brittany shrieked. "You can't—Alpha Jace, please! I made a mistake, I didn't mean—"

His voice grew firmer. “These actions cannot be ignored.” The chamber waited for his judgment. After a moment, he continued. “Effective immediately, you are sentenced to exile from all allied territories.” Mara’s head snapped upward. “You will not be permitted to return to Red Claw lands,” the elder said. “Nor will you be welcomed within the borders of any pack that stands within this council.” A stunned silence followed. Exile among werewolves was more than punishment. It meant isolation. No protection. No alliances.

He simply looked at me, his gaze cold. I steadied my voice and asked again, “Are you sure you want to exile me from the pack?” The murmurs grew louder. There were accusations toward me and sympathy for Hunter, angry that I had betrayed my mate. He ignored them all and stepped down from the stage, stopping in front of me. There was a coldness in his eyes I had never seen before. “Leia, at this point, what else is there to say? Every wolf in this pack is doing everything they can for our future. But you? What have you done?

What? "They failed to keep their daughter in line five years ago and teach you discipline," he said stepping closer to me. "I've already signed the papers, Ava. If you walk out that door, if you try to get on a plane or a bus your parents are exiled. Cast out. Rogues." My heart stopped. In the wolf word, exile was a death sentence for people as old as my parents. They wouldn't survive a week without a pack's protection. "You wouldn't," I whispered. " They're your father's oldest friend's"

Jodie Stafford, the wealthiest heiress in Jensford, suffers a horrific car crash that leaves her paralyzed from the waist down, jeopardizing her claim to Stafford Corp. When the news reaches home, my adopted brother, Liam Gordon, drops to his knees in the living room and begs me to take his place in the arranged marriage. Holding my glass of water, I sneer as I take a step back. "Back then, you looked down on me—the real heir you brought back from the countryside—saying I was too uncultured to be presentable, so you forced the marriage alliance with the Stafford family on Liam instead. "Now that Ms. Stafford is paralyzed and a liability, you want me to take his place? Not a chance in hel

Several had lowered their heads. Some were crying. He had lost. Not because I killed him. Because they chose something else. I stepped closer. “There is still a path available to you.” His expression hardened. “Prison?” “Exile.” The square quieted gradually when people realized we were speaking. Cassius stared. I continued. “Permanent exile from Nightveil, Ironclaw, and Mooncrest.” Liora looked surprised. So did Modric in the crowd. “You renounce every claim.”