GoodShort
Chapter 9
Isla never thought she’d wake up again.
The sharp scent of antiseptic filled her lungs as she blinked into the sterile white glow above. It took her a long time to realize—she was alive.
The pack medic was checking her vitals, his voice laced with genuine relief.
“You flatlined twice. We fought for over ten hours to pull you back. You’re lucky. Damn lucky.”
Isla’s lashes fluttered. Her throat felt like sandpaper.
“Thank you. For saving me.”
The medic gave a short nod, hesitated a beat.
“Was that your family who dropped you off? The ones who left right after you were wheeled in?”
Isla’s lips parted slightly, but no words came. Silence stretched between them like a chasm.
The medic didn’t push. He sighed and left her alone.
For the next two days, not a single soul came to see her.
No flowers. No messages. No familiar scent waiting outside her door.
On the third morning, Regis and Viviana finally showed up–not to check on her, but to lay out their final instructions.
“Tomorrow’s the mating ceremony,” Viviana said, like it was just another social event. “You promised to leave. Make sure you’re gone before it starts.”
Isla gave a small nod. Quiet. Obedient. Just the way they liked her.
Regis’s tone softened slightly, almost like praise.
“We wired money to your account. Once things calm down and they have a pup, maybe we’ll reach out. Veloria’s quiet. Should be good for you.”
They didn’t linger. Arabella was waiting. And Isla? She didn’t exist beyond that checklist.
As the door closed behind them, Isla pulled out the plane ticket to Veloria from her coat pocket–and tore it into pieces.
Then she booked a one–way flight to Koorana.
If they wanted her gone, fine. She’d disappear so completely they’d never find her again.
But not before she finished what she came here to do.
She left the pack hospital and headed straight to the Hall of Records–the place where ancient oaths were bound and broken.
By nightfall, her blood had sealed the parchment, marking her complete severance from the Grayscale bloodline. Her name stood alone beneath the old sigil, sharp and unwavering
She tucked the scroll into a small box, along with one final item the old voice crystal that held Rhett’s stories under the stars. The one she used to play when she still believed the world had room for her.
She had brought it to him so many times, begging him to remember. He never even gave her a full minute.
Well. She wouldn’t be needing it anymore.
The house buzzed that night, prepping for tomorrow’s grand ceremony. Upstairs, Isla lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
By dawn, she’d packed her last suitcase.
Chapter 9
She rolled it out to the car just as the wedding convoy pulled into the driveway.
Rhett stepped out first, looking sharp in a tailored suit, shoulders square like nothing could ever touch him.
Isla offered a polite nod.
He blinked. “You don’t need to come to the ceremony. Just… stay home.”
He didn’t say it, but she knew what he meant- -don’t ruin this. Don’t make a scene.
“I’m not here for your ceremony,” she said, handing over a small gift box. Her voice was steady. “I just came to say goodbye. Congratulations, Alpha. Wishing you both a long and happy life.”
She turned and got in her car.
Behind her, Rhett stared at the closing door, a strange twist i
He almost called out.
Almost.
his gut.
But Arabella stepped outside in her pristine white gown, arms outstretched.
“Rhett, come hold me.”
དར་དང་ད་ད་ན་ནད་ད་སྐད་་ག་ཆ་དང་རྒྱུ་
Through the rearview mirror, Isla watched him toss the box carelessly to his Beta, then walk back to Arabella with that same soft smile he used to wear just for her.
She rolled the window down.
And tossed her phone into the wind.
That chapter was done.
Isla, the girl they tried to bury, was gone.
And the woman driving away?
She wasn’t looking back.
Chapter 9
