Vows Are Spoken To Be Broken Novels & Stories

“My mother entrusted me to you on her deathbed. And what did you do to me? “If you had a daughter, would you want her to forgive a man who treated her the way you treated me?” “So, no! I won’t forgive you. I don’t want to ever see you again.” He looked at me deeply, as if recalling that day when my mother placed my hand into his, when he had vowed he would take care of me. He lowered his head and fell silent for a long time. As I passed by him, his trembling voice drifted to my ears.

she yelled, crying. The wolf let out a dark chuckle. “See? She’s already ours.” Camela screamed, yanking her hand back. Blood sprayed from her palm, splattering the marble floor as the torches flared high up again. The whispers laughed inside her head. Vincent pulled her close, speaking quickly and softly. “We can’t break the oath here. But maybe…if we let it bleed out…” Her eyes grew wide. “What do you mean?” “If we cut deeper. If we allow the vow drain, it might weaken.”

"A man in chains with that particular piece of power is not quite as powerless as you'd like to believe." "You will break that vow," Hector said. "I might," Marcellus said. "Or I might simply sit here and wait while you and your wife and your unborn child wait to see what consequences breaking a sacred vow without proper release actually brings." He paused, letting that settle. "The old laws around sacred vows are not gentle, Hector. You of all people know that." I felt my jaw tighten. He was right, and I hated that he was right, and I hated even more that he knew I knew it. Whatever risk the unbroken vow posed to our child, I was not prepared to test it.

Because for Livia— every word sounded like a lie forced into becoming the truth. And at that moment— without realizing it— her tears fell. One drop. Then another. She did not wipe them away. Did not try to hide them. Because she knew— there was nothing left to save. Livia opened her mouth. But her voice was barely audible. Broken. Fragile. As if every word that came out was a betrayal of herself. “I… y-yes…” her voice nearly disappeared, “I do.” Silence. For a moment. Yet it felt so long.

“Help? He was a loose end, just like you.” I glanced at the door, then back at her. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever they’re paying you, my father can double it. Just let me get him out of here. He still might make it if we move fast.” “Double it?” She stepped closer, voice dripping with mock pity. “Money doesn’t buy loyalty to the Swan. Your father couldn’t save your mother, and he sure as hell can’t save you. That alliance with the Volkov’s? It’s going to get you both buried. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure the message gets sent loud and clear with you dead.”

Her voice was instantly concerned. I sank onto the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. “I broke my vows,” I whispered. “I let a man touch me. I didn’t wait until marriage like I promised God and you. I feel so lost.” There was a long pause. Then my mother sighed softly, and somehow it held both affection and understanding.

“Just do as you’re told. If we wanted to kill you, we wouldn’t have brought you down here to do it. You’ll ruin the furniture with your blood.” I nodded and entered the circle. He lifted both arms, and the rest followed suit. “Speak the oath,” he said, “and bind your spirit to ours.” “What oath?” “You’ll know it when it’s time to say it. It’s magic.” I hesitated. “What happens if I break it?” “You die,” he said. “Your heart will rupture, your blood will boil in your veins, and your soul will shatter. Slowly. You’ll wish for death but it won’t come swiftly.”

he said, his tone dripping with disdain. The words cut deep, and Veda felt her heart shattering into a million pieces. "I thought our vows meant something," she whispered. Adyant snorted. "Vows? Those were just empty promises, Veda. We both knew it." Veda's eyes widened in shock as the reality check of her shattered vows laid bare in front of her fragile heart. "How can you say that?" she demanded, her voice laced with pain. Adyant's gaze locked onto hers.

“/That was what we really wanted. No sale. Anything else is a bonus./” “/Okay, I’ll give you that. But if he reneges on his promise, I’m taking it up with him myself./” Fear or not, I’ve had it with vampires. I won’t let them terrify me into not acting. “/So what would werewolves do?/” “/The one who breaks the oath loses his honor. Normally he’d lose any position he held. If he’s made the oath to someone else, that person or that person’s champion can challenge him to ritual combat. If he loses that, he forfeits all his possessions./”

I had no idea. "I won't promise anything," I added, drawing a gasp from the audience. "The only thing I can guarantee is to serve the pack selflessly and do everything for the people; that's all." Promises are meant to be broken. As cliche as it may sound, it never misses. People who opted to give promises are most likely the ones who broke them: like a newly bloomed flower in the wilderness. They won't last long as they'll eventually wither in time, being carried away by the wind and turned back to dust.