Page 10 of Daisy
About whether I can stand by and watch her be sold to the highest bidder.
Chapter 4
Daisy
The explosions started at dawn.
I jolt awake in my pristine bed, silk sheets tangled around my legs, heart hammering against my ribs. The sound echoes across the city like thunder, but the sky outside my window is clear. Another blast, closer this time, rattles the crystal chandelier above my head.
The chanting follows. Hundreds of voices, maybe thousands, rising and falling like an angry tide. I can't make out the words from here, but the tone is unmistakable. Fury. Desperation. The sound of alphas who have nothing left to lose.
My hands shake as I pull on my robe and move to the frosted window. I can barely make out the shapes of the manicured gardens below through the distorted glass, and the high walls beyond are just shadows. I can't see what's causing the explosions, can't see the source of the chanting that drifts over the walls like distant thunder.
But I can feel it. Something terrible is happening out there.
And Uncle's voice from last night echoes in my head:"Your placement has been finalized. The Fairburn pack. Old money, excellent breeding lines. They've requested the contraceptiveimplant remain in place for several heat cycles before breeding begins."
Several heat cycles. Like I'm livestock being prepared for optimal production timing.
Two weeks until I'm handed over to strangers who've already decided when they want to use my body. Who've planned out my heats like they're scheduling business meetings.
Another explosion shakes the house, and I press my forehead against the cool glass. My reflection stares back, pale and wide-eyed, looking every bit as terrified as I feel. The walls that are supposed to protect us suddenly feel like they're trapping us instead.
What's happening out there? What if whatever it is reaches the Omega House?
What if we're not as safe as they tell us we are?
Breakfast is a disaster.
Half the omegas don't show up at all, too frightened by the sounds outside to leave their rooms. The ones who do make it to the dining room pick at their food with shaking hands, jumping every time the distant chanting grows louder.
Veronica moves between us like a hurricane in heels, her usual composure cracked around the edges. "Girls, please. A little decorum. These... disturbances will pass. The authorities have everything under control."
But her voice is too bright, too forced. Her beta scent carries notes of anxiety that she can't quite mask with her usual lavender perfume.
"What if they come here?" whispers Camelia, one of the younger elite omegas who only arrived at the house a fewmonths ago. At sixteen, she's still adjusting to life here. Her fork clatters against her plate as another distant boom echoes through the walls. "What if they try to... to free us?"
"Free us?" Veronica's laugh is sharp enough to cut glass. "From what, dear? From safety? From the finest accommodations? From futures with the most prestigious packs in the city?" She gestures around the elegant dining room with its crystal and gold. "You are not prisoners. You are precious assets being prepared for your proper places in society."
Assets. Not people. Assets.
I push my untouched eggs around my plate, my stomach too knotted to eat. Through the tall windows, I can see the beta guards patrolling the grounds. More than usual. Their movements are quick, efficient, but I catch the tension in their shoulders, the way they keep checking their radios.
They're scared too.
I wonder about the alpha guards stationed outside the walls. Are they holding their positions? The thought makes my chest tighten with worry I don't fully understand. Those guards put themselves between us and whatever chaos is happening in the city, and I find myself hoping they're safe.
"But what if..." Camelia starts again, her voice barely a whisper.
"What if nothing," Veronica snaps, all pretense of maternal warmth gone. "You will finish your breakfast, attend your deportment classes, and prepare for your futures like the well-bred omegas you are. These riots have nothing to do with you."
But they do, don't they? The chanting outside, the smoke in the sky, the rage that's been building for months. It's all connected to us. To this system that treats us like commodities.
I think about Storm barking at me in the common room, the fierce defiance in her gray eyes. About Violet's empty smile and Rose's tired acceptance. About how I used to watch Harley tryto scale the outside garden wall. I thought she was crazy brave, attempting escape when the rest of us just accepted our fate. Part of me had always wondered what it would feel like to have that kind of courage.
Another explosion, close enough that the windows rattle in their frames. Several omegas gasp, and Camelia starts crying quietly into her napkin.
"That's quite enough," Veronica declares, her voice cracking like a whip. "Everyone to your rooms. Now."
