strave

SOREN

The last thing I remembered was Kin driving the heel of his boot into my skull.

Then darkness.

When I came to, I was lying outside my bedroom door like discarded trash. Every inch of me screamed as I forced myself onto my elbows, arms trembling under my own weight. For a moment I wondered if my body had finally given up on me.

It hadn't. Not yet.

I dragged myself inside.

The room looked like a hurricane had torn through it. The bed had been flipped over, every drawer emptied, clothes scattered across the floor beneath shattered glass and broken furniture. Even the mirror had been smashed, glittering under the moonlight like frozen ice. Someone had made sure I had nothing left.

The lights were dead. So was the air conditioner. The room felt like an oven.

My eyes burned from the lashes that had caught my face, one of them splitting the skin just beneath my eyelid so every blink stung. But it was my back that terrified me. It wasn't healing. That wasn't possible. I'd spent years training my body, pushing my regeneration past what most recessive omegas were capable of. Cuts usually closed within hours. Bruises faded overnight.

Now, nothing. Every wound stayed open, raw, throbbing like the whip had only just torn into me.

I staggered another step before my knees buckled. The broken remains of a lamp dug into my palms as I hit the floor, a hiss escaping my lips. The marble beneath me should have been cold and comforting. Instead, I couldn't stop shivering.

Time blurred. The room grew colder, or maybe that was just me. I wasn't sure how long I lay there before footsteps thundered down the hallway.

Voices. Hands. Someone rolled me onto my side.

"...He's freezing."

"...His pulse..."

"...Get the doctor!"

The words drifted in and out like they belonged to someone else's nightmare. Then another voice, calm, older. "...Alpha's blood..."

Something cool entered my vein. Warmth spread through me almost instantly, chasing the cold from my bones, flowing like liquid fire and stitching torn flesh back together from the inside.

Veyron's blood. Of course.

I hated that my body welcomed it. I wasn't ready to die. Not yet. There were still families waiting for sons who would never return from our final mission. Families I had promised to protect. Families who deserved answers.

"You'll be fine." Dr. Meridian adjusted the oxygen mask over my face. His voice sounded farther away than before. "Sleep."

This time, I couldn't fight it.

The bright light overhead forced my eyes open. For a few seconds, I stared blankly at the white ceiling before the steady beeping beside me pulled me back to reality. The IV bag hanging near the bed was nearly empty, dark crimson still swirling faintly through the clear fluid. I didn't need anyone to tell me whose blood it was. That explained why the pain was gone, why my back no longer felt flayed open, why I could breathe without feeling like my ribs would split apart.

Dr. Meridian came in moments after the nurse noticed I was awake. He removed the IV with practiced hands, pressing gauze over the puncture site.

"You enjoy making my job difficult."

I didn't answer.

"If this keeps happening..." His eyes settled on me, tired more than angry. "Your chances of carrying a healthy pregnancy will continue to decrease. You already know how difficult that already is for a recessive omega."

I almost told him that I hadn't started the fight. That Kin had spat in my face. That I'd been whipped without ever being told my crime. Instead I stayed silent. Who would believe the pack's traitor?

Dr. Meridian frowned. "You're losing weight." His gaze lingered on my wrists, now little more than skin stretched over bone. "The diet I prepared should've helped you recover. Have you been following it?"

Silence.

"Soren."

Still nothing.

His expression shifted, not to anger but to something closer to concern. "Are you starving yourself?"

I lowered my eyes. If I admitted the truth, they might not believe. If I stayed silent, only I would suffer.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Meridian said quietly. "If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to report this to the alpha."

My heart stopped. Fear slammed into me harder than the whip had.

"No." The word tore out before I could stop it. "I'll eat. I wasn't refusing." My voice cracked, the room blurring as panic tightened around my chest. "I was being starved." The confession came out barely a whisper. "I was..."

"You'll be escorted to the alpha," Dr. Meridian said, ignoring my plea. "Please, Soren. Don't reject him again."

My jaw tightened until it ached, fingers digging into the bedsheets. What else could I expect from a doctor whose loyalty belonged to the alpha before his own patient.

The nurse returned with a neatly folded set of clothes. The moment I recognized them, my vision blurred. They were the same clothes I'd worn the day Veyron first claimed me, freshly washed, neatly pressed, like none of the blood, pain, or humiliation had ever happened. I swallowed the lump in my throat, dressed in silence, and followed the guards waiting outside.

They led me through halls I knew too well, but the mansion felt different this time. The servants lowered their eyes as I passed. The family members who mocked me before pretended I didn't exist. No whispers. No laughter. No insults. The silence was worse than any of it.

My gaze searched each face, hoping to find my mother. She wasn't there. Instead, I found my father, standing at the end of the corridor, watching. There was no pity in his eyes. Only disgust, like I truly had become the disgrace everyone claimed I was.

The guards stopped outside Veyron's bedroom. One sharp shove sent me stumbling inside before the door slammed shut behind me.

The first thing I noticed wasn't Veyron. It was the dining table. A full meal had been laid out, enough to feed several people. Thick beef stew steaming in a porcelain bowl. Fresh bread. Roasted vegetables glazed with butter. Creamy mashed potatoes. Even fruit arranged neatly on a silver platter. The smell twisted my empty stomach painfully.

Then I looked at him.

Veyron stood beside the table, one hand resting against the polished wood, his expression unreadable. Too calm. The room itself felt like it had frozen with his mood.

He turned his head toward me. Those gray eyes locked onto mine, and without a word he reached into the bowl and scooped up a fistful of mashed potatoes soaked in beef stew.

Every instinct screamed at me to run. I spun toward the door and grabbed the handle. It didn't move. Locked.

"So." Veyron's voice came quiet behind me. "You'd rather starve yourself than fix that barren womb of yours." He said it almost pleasantly, and that frightened me more than shouting ever could. "You know I can't allow that."

When I turned back, he was already standing in front of me, his smile spreading slowly, never reaching his eyes.

Before I could react, his fingers tangled painfully in my hair and yanked me to my knees. Pain shot through my scalp.

"Open."

I clenched my teeth. His grip tightened.

"I said..." He shoved the food hard against my mouth, smearing gravy across my face as he forced it between my lips. "Open."

I choked. He didn't stop.

"You don't get to beg for death." Another handful. "You don't get to die on me." His fingers dug deeper into my hair, forcing my head back. "Not until I decide you're allowed to."