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The way he looked at me, though…. I didn’t get the impression he wanted me for himself.

And my father made it clear he has other options.

What else is he considering?

Fates… do I even want to know?

My anxiety worsens with every new horror I imagine.

I imagine this is what it feels like to be trapped by a snake. One that wraps you up and coils tighter and tighter until you can no longer breathe. I let myself cry, wetting my blankets with a river of tears that refuse to end.

Eventually, I’m startled by a knock at my door, and the Beta guard from downstairs sounds mocking when he calls in to me.

“Your father will be up shortly.”

I hear his weight settle against the door, and realize he’s not leaving any time soon. Apparently, Father has decided to post a guard outside my door. The reality of my fate settles deeper in my bones.

I feel painfully worthless. For the first time since my mother died, I took action to save myself, and I failed.

Spectacularly.

Now I face either a future with a dead-eyed monster named Alexander, or… what?

I don’t know what’s worse. Knowing what might be coming, or being forced to imagine what other horrors are in store for me.

I wrap my arms tighter around my legs, aching for touch and safety.

Tonight, I miss my mother more than ever. I don’t want to spend my life as a plaything for a monster.

I want to be free.

I want to live.

The four walls of this room—nearly empty after being stripped of anything that might be considered indulgent over the years—close in around me.

The need to escape tingles under my skin. I glance at the doors, being watched by a guard to make sure I don’t leave. My balcony is unlocked, but the fall is too far. I’d never make it, even if I try.

By the time the sun starts to sink below the treeline, I’ve nearly given up hope. I’m an emotional mess, waiting anxiously for my father to arrive.

Just as exhaustion settles in, my balcony doors swing open.

Wind rushes in, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring air. It fills the empty room, rustling the pages of the book I left open on my desk.

For a second, I swear I can almost see it. It swirls around my bed until the sheets flutter and spin, then moves through the white strands of my hair, twisting them playfully. My nostrils flare, and the barely-there scent of storm-charged air, cedar, and rain-soaked stone hits my senses, making my Omega stir.

Something about the scent sparks a memory, so fleeting that I barely catch it. It’s faint—the impression of a scent. The memory of it.

It works its way through my lungs and into my body, filling me with hope.

I uncurl my limbs and pad across the room, pulling the balcony doors shut. If it’s going to rain, I can’t fall asleep with them open.

I’m already in enough trouble as it is.

Crawling back into bed, I resign myself to yet another night of tossing and turning. I don’t want to simply accept my fate, but I don’t know what else to do.

Yet, even as I try to convince myself to do just that, something inside pushes back, and a comfortable warmth fills my chest. I close my eyes, relaxing into the feeling. It reminds me of a storm about to break, both comforting and familiar at the same time.

I was brave today.