Chapter 3

The Harvest

Vera POV:

I was halfway up the stairs when I heard the slap.

It wasn't physical, but the sound of my mother's voice from the hallway felt like a blow.

"You poisoned her!"

I turned. My mother stood at the bottom of the stairs, chest heaving.

"I did no such thing."

"Don't lie to me!" She rushed up, face twisted. Smack.

My head snapped to the side. The sting was sharp, hot.

"Eris is covered in hives!" my mother screamed. "The doctor says it's an allergic reaction to a foreign contaminant. You put something in her food! You were jealous!"

I touched my throbbing cheek. "I didn't make the food, Mother. The kitchen staff did. Ask them."

"You were in the kitchen!" Dax appeared behind her. "I told you to go there. You must have slipped something in."

"I never went to the kitchen. I went to my room."

"Liar!" Dax spat. "You've always been jealous. That's why we sent you North. To protect her from your toxic energy."

I froze.

Is that the story they told themselves? That they sent a twelve-year-old to a frozen wasteland to *protect* the golden child?

I remembered the North. The biting wind. The Rogue wolves throwing themselves at the outpost fences. I remembered picking up a silver-plated dagger at fourteen because the perimeter was breached and I was the only thing standing between the mess hall and a massacre.

I had killed three Rogues that night. I hadn't peeled potatoes. I survived.

"Think what you want."

I turned my back and walked into my room, locking the door.

They pounded on it for a minute, shouting threats, but a scream from the medical wing drew them away.

I moved quickly.

I didn't take the silk dresses or the jewelry.

I reached under my bed and pulled out a black tactical duffel. Inside was my gear from the Outpost.

Kevlar-lined combat suit. Silver-edged daggers. A first-aid kit tailored for wolfsbane poisoning. And a burner phone.

I changed out of my funeral dress into cargo pants and combat boots. They felt like a second skin.

I picked up the burner. Old tech, untraceable.

I dialed a number I hadn't used in six months.

"Secure line," a gruff voice answered. "Identify."

"Designation V. Requesting reactivation."

Pause. Then, the voice softened. "Commander V? We thought you retired to play house."

"The house burned down," I said. "I'm coming home, Rike."

"Gate's always open. We have a Rogue surge in Sector 4. Could use your blade."

"ETA ten hours."

I slung the bag over my shoulder.

Suddenly, a Mind-Link forced its way into my head. Cain. A roar of aggression.

*If she dies, Vera, I will kill you myself. You are my mate, but I will reject you. I will make you a Rogue.*

My heart didn't even flutter. The bond felt like a rotting rope.

*Save your breath, Cain.* I didn't send it.

I unlocked my door. The hallway was empty.

I walked silently down the corridor. As I passed my parents' bedroom, the door was slightly ajar. Hushed voices.

I stopped.

"...doctor says her blood count is unstable," my father whispered. "The synthetic boosters are destroying her marrow. She needs a transfusion. Compatible donor."

"Use Vera," my mother said. Her voice was calm. Chillingly practical. "She's an Omega, she recovers fast. We can keep her here. Drain what we need weekly."

"And the engagement?" my father asked. "Cain is furious."

"Let him break it," my mother hissed. "We petition the Council. Say Vera is unstable. Unfit. We propose a new union. Cain and Eris."

"But they aren't mates."

"Who cares? Eris is an Alpha female! Think of the power! Vera can stay... she can be Eris's lady-in-waiting. Take care of their pups. We tell the public Vera is sick, that she needs to stay home for treatment. It covers the blood draws."

I stood in the shadows, gripping my bag until my knuckles turned white.

They weren't just neglecting me. They were planning to harvest me. To turn me into livestock.

"You're right," my father sighed. "It's for the good of the pack. Vera is... replaceable."

Replaceable.

Something inside me snapped. Not a bone, but a chain.

I pushed the door open.

My parents jumped. My mother's eyes widened at my combat gear.

"Vera?" she stammered. "What are you wearing?"

"I heard you," I said, voice low, vibrating with a growl.

"Vera, listen," my father stepped forward, Alpha posturing. "We are under stress..."

"You want my blood? You want me to raise her pups?"

"It is your duty!" my mother cried, pivoting to anger. "Your sister is sick!"

"She is not sick. She is withdrawing from drugs," I said coldly.

My father paled. "What did you say?"

"Check her blood for synthetics. If you were a real Alpha, you would have smelled it."

I turned around.

"Where are you going?" my mother shrieked. "You can't leave! You are grounded!"

"I am not a child. And I am not yours."

I walked toward the stairs.

"Vera!" my father bellowed, using his Alpha Command. "STOP!"

The command hit me like a physical wall. My muscles seized. My wolf whined.

But I wasn't just a pack member. I was a warrior of the North. In the North, pain is just information.

I gritted my teeth. Forced my leg to move. Then the other.

I shattered the command.

My father gasped. An Omega breaking an Alpha Command? Impossible.

I didn't look back.