So Goodbye
1815 Words
The house on Willow Creek had never felt so vast, or so empty. For three years, every corner of this place had been filled with Eleanor’s quiet hope. Now, that hope had curdled into a cold, hard resolve.
She stood in the center of the living room, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the furniture covers she had spent months weaving by hand. She had chosen hues that echoed the stormy blue of Silas’s eyes, imagining the moment he might pause, look at her work, and finally see her.
He never had.
"No more," she whispered to the quiet air.
She moved to the bedroom and pulled a suitcase from the top of the closet. Her hands were steady as she folded her clothes, the plain, comfortable things she had worn when Silas wasn't around to dress her in silk. She reached into the back of her nightstand drawer and pulled out a small, white envelope. Inside was the ultrasound photo from the private clinic.
The image was a grainy blur of gray and white, but to Eleanor, it was the only real thing in her life. She pressed her thumb against the tiny flickering shape that represented a heartbeat.
"It’s just us," she murmured, her voice catching. "We're going to find a place where we aren't secrets."
She zipped the suitcase and walked back to the kitchen. On the marble countertop, she laid the diamond necklace Silas had given her on their wedding day. The stone caught the afternoon sun, throwing brilliant, mocking shards of light against the wall. Next to it, she placed a heavy manila envelope containing the divorce papers she had quietly commissioned months ago.
She didn't write a note. There was nothing left to say that hadn't been ignored a thousand times before.
High above the city, in a penthouse that breathed luxury and malice, Catheryn sat behind a mahogany desk. She was nursing a glass of dark red juice that looked disturbingly like blood in the midday light.
A sharp knock sounded at the door. "Enter," Catheryn said, her voice like a velvet-wrapped blade.
A man in a dark suit stepped in, bowing his head. "She’s leaving, Lady Catheryn. The trackers show her vehicle moving toward the airport. She’s already checked in for Flight 702 to the coast."
Catheryn didn't smile; she simply tapped her perfectly manicured nails against the desk. Click. Click. Click. "She thinks she’s escaping. How quaint."
"Should we have her intercepted at the gate?" the man asked. "The Alpha will be furious if he finds out we let her leave the territory."
"The Alpha is compromised," Catheryn snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Silas has a weakness for that human woman’s body. If she stays alive, she remains a loose end. If the Elders discover he was legally bound to a human before our fated union, the scandal will undermine the throne before I even sit on it. I will not have a shadow on my crown."
The man shifted his weight. "What are your orders then?"
"She’s taking a regional jet. Flight 702," Catheryn said, leaning forward. "I have a contact in the maintenance crew, a wolf who owes the Obsidian Pack his life. Tell him it’s time to pay the debt. I want a catastrophic engine failure. Something that leaves no room for questions. Or survivors."
The man’s eyes widened. "Lady Catheryn, that’s a commercial flight. There are over a hundred people on that manifest."
Catheryn stood up, her presence filling the room with a cold, predatory weight. "I don't care about the people. I care about the succession. Silas is the most powerful Alpha in the north. With him by my side, I am untouchable. Without that human girl, there is no threat. Do it, and make sure the debris is deep enough in the sea that the divers never find her."
"Yes, my Lady."
As the door closed, Catheryn picked up her glass and toasted the empty room. "Goodbye, Eleanor. Thank you for making it so easy."
At the airport, Eleanor stood in the security line, her heart hammering against her ribs. She felt exposed, as if every werewolf in the terminal could smell the betrayal on her skin. She kept her head down, her hand resting protectively over her stomach.
When she finally boarded the plane, she found her seat by the wing. She buckled her belt and leaned her head against the cool plastic of the window. For the first time in three years, the suffocating pressure in her chest began to lift.
"We're going to be okay," she whispered, her breath fogging the glass. "We’re going to be safe."
The plane pushed back from the gate. The engines began their low, rhythmic growl, and Eleanor closed her eyes, letting the vibration lull her into a shallow sleep.
***
Silas sat in his office at the Silver-Moon headquarters, his mind a million miles away from the trade report on his desk. He felt restless. Fenris, his wolf, was pacing in the back of his mind, a low snarl vibrating in his chest.
Something is wrong, the wolf urged. The anchor is drifting.
"Shut up, Fenris," Silas muttered, rubbing his temples.
The door to his office burst open. His Beta, Marcus, stood there, clutching a manila envelope. His face was a mask of grim confusion.
"Alpha. You need to see this." Marcus set the envelope on the desk along with a familiar gold chain.
Silas froze. He picked up the necklace, the diamonds cold against his palm. "Where did you get this?"
"The house," Marcus said. "She’s gone, Silas. She left these on the counter. Along with... these."
Silas pulled the papers from the envelope. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. The words hit him like a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs.
"She can't divorce me," Silas growled, his eyes flashing amber. "We have a contract. She knows the rules."
"She’s already gone, Alpha," Marcus said, his voice quiet. "We tracked her phone. She’s at the airport. My contact in security says she just boarded Flight 702."
The restlessness in Silas’s chest turned into a cold, sharp dread. Fenris let out a mournful howl.
"Flight 702?" Silas stood up, his chair clattering to the floor. "That’s the regional skip to the coast. That plane is ancient. Why the hell would she take a regional flight?"
"I don't know, but the flight just took off ten minutes ago."
"Get me the airport director!" Silas roared, grabbing his phone. "Tell them to turn that plane around! I don't care if they have to cite a weather emergency or a mechanical fault! Get my wife off that plane!"
"Alpha, the plane is already at cruising altitude. It's—"
Silas slammed his fist into the mahogany desk, the wood splintering under his strength. "I don't care! Get the tower on the line now!"
He dialed Eleanor’s number, his hand shaking. Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Pick up, Eleanor. Pick up, damn it," he hissed.
“The person you are calling is unavailable. Please leave a message.”
Silas felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. He looked at the television in the corner of his office, which was perpetually tuned to the news. The screen flickered, a red banner scrolling across the bottom.
BREAKING NEWS: AIRCRAFT EMERGENCY IN PROGRESS.
"Marcus," Silas whispered, his voice cracking. "Look."
On the plane, the steady hum of the engines had suddenly turned into a violent, metallic screaming.
Eleanor jerked awake as the aircraft shuddered so hard her head struck the window. The cabin lights flickered and died, replaced by the eerie, pulsing red of the emergency lights. Oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling with a rhythmic thud-thud-thud.
"Please remain seated!" a flight attendant screamed, her voice bordering on hysteria. "Brace for impact! Brace!"
A deafening explosion rocked the left side of the plane. Eleanor looked out the window and saw a plume of black smoke trailing from the engine. The wing was covered in a shimmering film of fuel that ignited into a terrifying orange glow.
"No," Eleanor gasped, her hand flying to her stomach. "Not now. Not like this!"
Despair flooded her. She had been so close. She had been minutes away from freedom, and now the sky was falling. The plane began to tilt sharply, the nose dipping toward the vast, dark expanse of the Silver Sea below.
She pulled the ultrasound photo from her pocket, clutching it against her heart. "I'm sorry," she sobbed as the wind began to roar through the cabin. "I'm so sorry, little one."
The scream of the metal and the wail of the passengers rose to a crescendo. Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut, and then—
The world went black.
Back in the office, Silas stared at the screen.
FLIGHT 702. SUDDEN ALTITUDE DROP. RADAR CONTACT LOST OVER THE SILVER SEA.
The phone slipped from his hand, clattering onto the marble floor. The sound was small, insignificant compared to the roar of the blood in his ears.
"Alpha?" Marcus whispered, stepping toward him.
Silas couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. Fenris was silent now, a heavy, dead weight in his chest. He looked down at the divorce papers on his desk. He had spent three years keeping her in the shadows, denying her a place in his world to save his own crown. He had treated her like an afterthought, a convenience, a secret.
And now, the secret was gone.
"Find it," Silas whispered, his voice sounding like it was coming from a thousand miles away. "Find that plane, Marcus. Send every search team we have. Send the divers. Send the wolves."
"Silas... the impact... the radar showed a vertical descent. There won't be—"
"I DON'T CARE!" Silas roared, turning on his Beta with a feral snarl. "You find her! You find my wife!"
He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The diamond necklace was still gripped in his palm, the sharp edges of the stones cutting into his skin.
"Alpha," Marcus said softly, looking at the tablet in his hand. "There’s one more thing. I just got the report from the clinic Eleanor visited yesterday morning."
Silas looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "What?"
"She wasn't just leaving you, Silas," Marcus said, his voice thick with emotion. "She was three months pregnant. With an heir."
The room began to spin. Silas looked at the necklace in his hand.
A child. He had a child.
- Writer
