Page 11 of Daisy

I spend the morning pacing my room like a caged animal, listening to the chaos outside grow louder. The elegant space that's supposed to feel like a sanctuary suddenly feels like exactly what it is.

A beautiful prison.

The silk wallpaper with its delicate rose pattern seems to mock me. The crystal chandelier that catches the light so beautifully feels like a weight hanging over my head. Everything here is designed to remind me that I'm valuable property. Precious. Breakable.

Disposable.

I sink onto my bed, wrapping my arms around myself. My whole body feels like it's vibrating with panic, like my skin is too tight, like I might fly apart at any moment.

Two weeks.

Fourteen days until I become someone else's property. Until my body stops belonging to me entirely.

The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

A soft knock at my door makes me jump. "Come in."

But the door doesn't open. Instead, I hear an unfamiliar voice from the hallway. "Um, miss? I brought you something. If you want to come to the door?"

I move to the door and open it to find a young guard I don't recognize standing in the hallway, looking nervous and shiftinghis weight. His beta scent is very, very mild—just the faintest hint of fresh mint and cedar, clean and unassuming. He's holding a worn paperback book against his chest.

"I'm Mikey," he says quietly, his voice uncertain. "I'm doing rounds, checking on everyone. Making sure you're all okay with... everything going on outside."

The kindness in his voice surprises me. "That's thoughtful of you."

He shifts awkwardly, extending the book toward me. "I thought maybe you'd want something to read? Help pass the time until things calm down out there."

I take it with trembling fingers. It's a well-worn copy ofJane Eyre."Thank you."

"It's nothing fancy," he says, ducking his head. "Just something from the staff library. Figured it might be a good distraction."

Looking at his young, earnest face, I realize I don't know him at all. "You're new here, aren't you?"

He nods, looking even more nervous. "Started yesterday, actually. They needed extra hands with... well, with some of the other guards being reassigned."

Another explosion, closer than before. This one shakes the entire building, and I hear glass breaking somewhere downstairs. Shouting. Running footsteps.

Mikey's radio crackles to life. "All units to the gardens. Now."

His face goes grim, and he straightens up, suddenly looking more like a guard than a nervous young man. "I have to go. Stay in your room, okay? Keep the door locked."

He hurries down the hallway, leaving me alone with his book and the sound of my world falling apart outside.

The afternoon stretches endlessly.The explosions have stopped, but the chanting continues, sometimes growing so loud I can make out individual words through the windows.

"Omega choice!"

"Down with the lottery!"

"Freedom now!"

Each phrase hits me like a physical blow. These people are fighting for something I've never even dared to dream about. The right to choose. The right to say no.

The right to be more than a political bargaining chip.

I try to read Mikey's book, but the words blur together on the page. Jane Eyre's fierce independence feels like a fairy tale, something from a world where women can stand up to powerful men and make their own choices without consequences.

Where they get to fall in love.