No: Sophia’s Perspective

Dad's hand settles on my shoulder, heavy and warm. "Sophia, listen to your mother. We've discussed this for years. We've prepared."

"Prepared for what? Suicide?" My voice rises with panic. "I won't do it. I won't run while you sacrifice yourselves."

"You will," Mum says, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Because the alternative is worse."

The alternative. I've heard the whispers, seen the vacant-eyed omegas paraded at formal pack functions, their alpha owners keeping them on short leashes both literal and figurative. Girls who tested high, auctioned off to the highest bidder, their families compensated with money that's supposed to ease the loss of a daughter but really just pays for their silence.

"They'll hunt me down," I say, trying to be rational through my rising panic. "No one escapes the Council."

"Some do," Dad says quietly. "There are places... people who help."

I look between them, realisation dawning. "You've been planning this."

Mum nods slowly. "Since your first heat. We've made connections. There are small insurgent groups around some of the more forward-thinking packs that would take you in."

"Insurgents?" I echo in disbelief. "You want me to join rebels?"

"We want you to live free," Dad says fiercely. "Not as some alpha's breeding machine."

The bluntness of his words makes me flinch. It's what we all know happens to high-scoring omegas, but we never say it aloud in our house. The ugly truth behind the Council's polite term "genetic compatibility."

"But they'll execute you both," I say, my voice breaking. "For interfering with a Council claim."

Mum and Dad exchange another look.

"But you will survive," Mum says simply, as if that explains everything.

And in their eyes, I see that it does. The fierce love of parents willing to die so their child might live free. It breaks something inside me.

"No," I shake my head, tears spilling over. "I won't let you die for me. We could all run, together."

"They'd catch us," Dad says gently. "A Beta and his mate can't move through territories undetected. But a single omega, moving fast? You have a chance."

"Besides," Mum adds, her voice softening, "they won't kill us immediately. There will be a trial, appeals. It could be months, even years. By then, you'll be hidden somewhere safe."

I know she's lying. The Council doesn't waste time with lengthy trials for those who interfere with the Omega Directive. But I see the desperate need in her eyes for me to believe this comforting fiction.

"Sophia." Mum takes my face between her hands, forcing me to look at her. "Promise me. Promise that when they come, you'll run. That you won't look back."

Her eyes, so like mine, are filled with tears and fierce determination. Dad's hand tightens on my shoulder.

"I can't," I whisper.

"You can," he says. "And you will. Because you're stronger than you know."

Am I? I don't feel strong. I feel like a terrified child who's just realised the monsters under the bed are real, and they're coming in five days.

"Promise us," Mum insists, her voice breaking. "Please, Sophia. Let us do this one thing. Let us save you."

How can I deny them this? After everything they've done to protect me, to prepare me for a world that sees me as nothing more than a valuable breeding commodity? Their faces are etched with years of worry and love.

"I promise," I finally say, tears streaming down my face. The words taste like ash in my mouth.

Mum pulls me into a fierce hug, Dad's arms wrapping around us both. We cling to each other, our small family unit that might be torn apart in less than a week.

I breathe in their familiar scents, Mum's subtle floral perfume mixed with baking spices, Dad's woodsy cologne, and try to memorise the feeling of safety in their embrace.

"How did you know?" I ask eventually, my voice muffled against Mum's shoulder. "That I'd test high?"

They pull back slightly, exchanging another glance.

"We've always known you were special," Dad says. "Even before your first heat. The way you could sense others' emotions, calm them with just your presence."

Mum nods. "And when you were twelve and found that injured bird in the yard, do you remember? You held it in your hands, and its broken wing began to mend."

I remember. I'd thought it was normal, that everyone could feel the flow of healing energy through their fingertips. It wasn't until I saw Mum's expression that I realised it wasn't.

"The healing touch is rare," Dad explains. "Even among omegas. It's... highly prize."

The way he says it sends a chill through me. Not prized as in valued for helping others, but prized as in worth more at auction.

"And your scent changed after your first heat," Mum adds quietly. "It has markers that even Beta wolves can detect. The Council doctor would have noticed immediately."

I sit back, wiping at my tears with the back of my hand. "So that's it? My blood goes to a lab, they confirm what you already know, and the Council comes to collect me like a package?"

"Not if you run," Mum reminds me, her voice strengthening. "South, through the forest border. There's a map and supplies hidden under the loose floorboard in your closet. Provisions, money, contacts."

How long have they been preparing for this moment?

Years, evidently. While I was going to school, hanging out with friends, living in blissful denial of my approaching twenty-first birthday, they were plotting escape routes and making rebel contacts.

"Will you..." I hesitate, not wanting to ask but needing to know. "Will you be able to come find me? After?"

The look they exchange shatters any remaining hope. Whatever happens to them, we all know I won't see them again.

"Just live, Sophia," Dad says roughly. "Live free. That's all we want."

I nod, fresh tears spilling. Mum pulls me back into her arms, and we sit together as the afternoon light fades to evening, a family united by love and soon to be divided by the cruel system that values me only for the genetic compatibility in my blood.

Five days. Five days until my blood test results potentially trigger Council representatives arriving at our door. Five days left of normal life, of safety in my parents' home. Five days to prepare for a desperate run toward an uncertain future, leaving behind the only people I've ever truly loved.

I close my eyes and make a silent promise to myself, different from the one I made to my parents. I will run, yes. But someday, somehow, I'll find a way back to them. The Council, the directive, the entire corrupt system, none of it will stand forever. And maybe, just maybe, I can be part of bringing it down.

But first, I have to survive.