Chapter 7: Goodbye Notes

Skye’s POV

I woke the next morning with swollen, red eyes.

I needed to leave. Today.

The thought gave me a surge of energy. To hell with the Breeder. I wasn't going to stay here and keep taking insults from Leon and Maya.

First, I needed to eat. I had barely touched the food at the banquet last night.

As I went downstairs, a strange, nauseating smell reached my nose. I followed it to the kitchen and found Mom there.

"Good morning, Mom," I said as I stepped into the room.

She jumped slightly and turned around quickly, pushing something into a drawer.

"Oh! Skye, you startled me."

I wrinkled my nose. "Do you smell that? It's kind of... gross."

Her eyes shifted to the side.

"Oh, that. I found some rotten eggs while making cookies this morning. I had to throw them out," she said softly. She placed a steaming mug of apple cinnamon tea and a plate of gingerbread cookies in front of me. They were shaped like wolves, bears, and rabbits. "I made your favorites."

The cookies were still warm, fresh from the oven. I picked up a little wolf-shaped one. My throat tightened.

It was obvious Mom hadn't slept. The shadows under her eyes told the story. While I cried myself to sleep, she had stayed up baking my childhood favorites. Guilt stirred inside me, battling with my resolve to leave.

The cookies were still warm, fresh from the oven. I picked up a little wolf-shaped one. My throat tightened.

It was obvious Mom hadn't slept. The shadows under her eyes told the story. While I cried myself to sleep, she had stayed up baking my childhood favorites. Guilt stirred inside me, battling with my resolve to leave.

Then she sat down beside me and hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Skye… I think maybe you should consider Alpha Maxwell’s proposal from last night."

The cookie slipped from my hand.

"Mom," I said, my voice sharp with disbelief, "how could you even say that? I thought you were the one person who truly understood me."

She looked startled, flustered.

"I only said it because I want what's best for you," she rushed to explain. "Sometimes, when you love someone, you have to make sacrifices. And you're not alone, Skye. You still have us… don’t you?"

I bit down on my lip, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Even if everyone thinks I’m selfish, I can’t share my love with someone I don’t choose. I won’t."

Mom quickly reached out to soothe me, her voice softening.

"Okay… okay. I’m not forcing you. I just want you to be happy. That’s all I care about."

I nodded silently, the words lodged in my throat.

I was halfway through my second cookie when a familiar voice rang out through the open kitchen window, tearing the moment apart.

"Ethan! Training's about to start. Everyone's waiting for you!" Maya's voice was sharp and commanding.

Heavy footsteps came down the stairs. Ethan rushed into the room but paused when he saw me at the table. Uncertainty crossed his face.

"Skye, I—" he began, taking a step toward me.

"Ethan, hurry up!" Maya's voice cut through again.

Our eyes met. I saw guilt, worry, and something like regret. But he looked toward the window, toward the waiting pack, toward his Alpha.

"I've got to go," he said, stepping back. "We'll talk later, okay?"

I nodded, keeping my face down as I sipped my tea. He rushed out the door. Once again, the choice had been made. And once again, it wasn’t me.

My resolve solidified.

What was left for me here?

No training.

No real place.

Just watching from the sidelines while others lived the lives I wasn’t allowed to have.

I was the burden. The one without a wolf. The weak link everyone had to protect.

I was nothing here. Maybe even less than nothing.

Mom sat beside me and gently placed her hand over mine. "How are you feeling today, sweetie?"

I tried to smile. "Just tired. Didn't sleep well."

"That’s understandable," she said, stroking the back of my hand with her thumb. "You’ve been through a lot."

"I think I’ll go rest for a bit," I said, finishing the tea. "Don’t worry about me, Mom. You should help with the meat smoking. I know there’s a lot to do after the festival."

She hesitated, watching my face. "Are you sure? I can stay with you."

"I’m sure," I said, forcing cheer into my voice. "Besides, Ethan and Dad brought down two deer last night. That’s a lot of meat."

She finally nodded. "Alright. But I’ll check on you later."

As soon as she stepped outside, I ran upstairs. My heart beat faster. I didn’t have much time.

From my window, I saw the pack gathering around the smoking sheds. They would be busy for hours. The smell of curing meat would fill the air soon.

No one would notice me leaving.

I moved quickly. My deerskin backpack, stitched by Mom with detailed beadwork, was ready in minutes. I packed warm clothes, toiletries, and the money I had saved from summer jobs.

My fingers brushed over the bone flute Ethan had made me for my tenth birthday. He had spent so long carving it, getting the sound just right. I couldn’t leave it behind.

I also grabbed my most prized possession—the silver dagger Dad had forged for me after the vampire war. He called it Tink, because of the sound silver makes when it hits stone.

"You’ll always be protected," he had said, "even when I can’t be there."

I hadn’t understood it then, but now I did. I ran my fingers along the carved handle and placed it in the bag.

I checked the window again. Mom was hanging strips of venison on the racks. Dad wasn’t in sight. He was likely in the smokehouse with the senior pack.

I returned to my desk and pulled out a blank sheet of paper. There was so much I wanted to say. Apologies. Explanations. Reassurance.

But when I held the pen, no words came.

How do you condense a lifetime into a single note?

I kept it simple.

I love you all, but I can't stay. Please don't worry about me, and please don't try to find me. I'll be okay. —Skye

Tears burned behind my eyes as I placed the note on my pillow. But I blinked them back. I needed to be strong.

I pulled on a white knit cap to hide my silver hair, so different from the golden tones of most pack members. Then I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped quietly out the back door.

The keys to my birthday present—a red compact car Dad had given me just yesterday—felt cold in my hand.

I started the engine and eased down the long driveway.

I didn’t look back.