All Chapters of Rejected Omega Princess: Meet My Overprotective Brothers: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“Contract or collar, girl. Either way, your body’s paying our debt.”“Then I’ll make sure the first debt you pay… is to me,” I’d told him.The words had felt too cold coming out of my own mouth. Not like me. Not the old me, anyway.The old me had been all begging, all hope. This Aria—this Lyris—didn’t have room left for that.***That night, sleep wouldn’t come.I lay on my narrow mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling while the house settled around me. The usual creaks and sighs of old beams felt heavier, like the building itself knew something was coming.Faces drifted behind my eyes.Father, grinning with the contract in his hand. Mother, calculating. The Debt Office man, neat and cold. Alpha Blackthorn, talking about “damaged goods.” Damon, in the doorway, asking if I was crying. Lila, eyes bright with false concern. The maids whispering “cursed” and “witch.”And above them all, like a scene painted on the inside of my skull, the auction stage.Collar snapping. Light

By the time the Debt Office carriage rattled away from Bloodthorn, the whole house seemed to sigh with ugly relief.“It’s done,” I heard Father tell a neighbor, puffed up. “Just a matter of signatures now. She’ll be Ironford’s problem soon enough.”“About time,” Mother added. “We’ve carried her long enough.”They said it like they were setting down a heavy sack of grain.I felt more like they’d just pushed me toward a cliff.***The next morning, my body felt like it belonged to someone else.Every joint ached. My shoulder throbbed where Father had grabbed me. My cheek burned with the lingering sting of Hest’s slap. Both palms were sore—from the needle pricks, from pressing them into cold stone, from holding too tightly to things that wanted to slide away.The magic hangover was worse.Behind my eyes, a low, constant throb pulsed. My mark felt like someone had branded me from the inside.I lay there for a moment, listening to the faint snores and shifting breaths of the other servants

“We’re covered either way now,” Father had said, pleased with himself. “Contract or backroom deal. No way we walk away empty‑handed.”The words echoed in my head the next morning as I hauled firewood across the yard.Covered either way.To them, I was just a number with two possible buyers. To the Beta in the shadows, I was “little omega” stock. To the Debt Office man, I was “subject.”Somewhere beyond Bloodthorn, four men had felt a flare in their bones and knew, whether they admitted it yet or not, that their sister still breathed.Two days.I shifted the wood against my bruised shoulder and kept walking.***The training field was a storm.Damon moved at its center like a lightning strike—fast, sharp, too bright.He drove his Beta back with a flurry of blows, wooden practice sword cracking against shield and blade with enough force to make my teeth ache. The Beta stumbled, off‑balance, barely got his guard back up in time to block the next strike.“Again,” Damon snapped, already pi

One way or another, someone would pay.I just had to make sure it wasn’t only me.***They let me out of the storage room at dawn.The door swung open with a scrape; cold air knifed in.“Up,” Madam Hest snapped. “The world didn’t stop spinning because you decided to shock elders and sit in the dark.”I uncurled stiff limbs and pushed myself upright. My back ached from the stone. Every bruise felt twice as deep. My stomach growled angrily at the absence of supper.“Get water,” she said. “Wash your face. No one wants to see a sulking brat at breakfast.”I nodded once and moved past her without comment.The kitchen fire was already crackling. Steam rose from pots. The same grind as every day. No one looked at me like I’d just been locked away for hours; in Bloodthorn, punishments were as ordinary as spoons.“Bread,” Mother said shortly, thrusting a half‑stale crust at my chest. “You can eat that on your feet.”Better than nothing. I took a bite, jaw working slowly around the dry chew, an

This time, I walked into the trap awake.Rough hands hoisted me up by the waist and set me on the wagon’s plank floor. The wood was cold through my thin shoes, smelling of old straw and spilled grain. The tarped cover flapped slightly in the chill wind, ropes creaking.“Sit,” one of the men ordered.I let myself slump against a crate on the right side as if my limbs had turned to wet rags. The man took it as proof that the drug had done its work and turned his back on me, trusting my weakness more than any rope.Behind him, the Beta with the scar clapped my father on the shoulder.“See?” he said. “Easy. We’ll be over the border before she even realizes she’s gone.”“Better be,” Father muttered. “I don’t want the Debt Office catching wind of this before you’re out of reach.”“Relax,” the Beta said. “By the time their man comes sniffing back, we’ll be three towns over. They can fight about ‘breach of contract’ all they like—while counting their losses and our coin.”My mother’s gaze fli