Chapter 8

I woke up. My eyes were wet. Salty tears traced paths through the dried blood on my face.

The old Eleanor was gone. The one who wept for a man who didn't care. That Eleanor was truly dead.

I forced myself to heal. To move. To fight. I pushed my body, day after day. My resolve was a burning fire.

I used my family's network. The divorce was processed. Swiftly. Efficiently.

The papers arrived on the day I was discharged. A stark, white envelope. Inside, a single sheet. Final.

Cedric was waiting outside the hospital. He held a bouquet of red roses.

He saw me. The roses dropped from his hand. His jaw went slack. He stared.

Then Cassidy appeared. She held another bouquet. She whispered something to him. Her eyes were triumphant.

"He won't let you go, you know," she hissed, coming closer. Her voice was pure venom. "He told me. He loves my soup. He loves that I understand him."

My eyes narrowed. The flowers. Something was wrong.

She suddenly shrieked. "She pushed me! She's trying to hurt me again!" She threw her bouquet at me. Then she collapsed, clutching her head.

A small explosion. A flash of light. A stinging pain on my arm.

Cassidy screamed, rolling on the ground. She clutched her head. She wriggled like a worm.

Cedric was at her side instantly. "Cassidy! Are you okay?" He ignored me. My bleeding arm.

One of Cedric's teammates grabbed me. He pinned my arms behind my back. "Apologize, Eleanor! Look what you did!"

I smiled. A slow, chilling smile. My face was pale. My lips were stained with dried blood.

I twisted. My shirt rode up. It revealed a fresh, angry burn mark on my back. "Apologize for what?" My voice was cold. "For surviving?"

Cedric looked at my back. His eyes widened. He recoiled. A flicker of something, guilt maybe, crossed his face.

I kicked out. My foot connected squarely with Cassidy's chest. She flew backward. She tumbled down the hospital steps.

Cedric roared. "Eleanor! What have you done?!"

I pulled the wedding ring from my finger. I flung it. It arced through the air. It shattered a window.

The ring tumbled. Down. Down into the mud below. Its shine vanished. It was just a dull piece of metal. Lost.

He grabbed my arm. His grip was tight. "Eleanor, don't!"

I used his momentum. I spun. I executed a perfect over-the-shoulder throw. He crashed to the ground.

I didn't look back. I walked away. My strides were long. Deliberate.

I found his superior. General Thompson. "General. Eleanor Curry. I need to activate Project Falcon." My voice was calm. Controlled.

He looked at me with disdain. "Project Falcon? Who are you? Some housewife playing dress-up?"

I laughed. A short, sharp sound. "I am Falcon. And this isn't a request. It's an order."