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“Because I said so, Idril. You will do as I say. Albertson needs more blood samples, and you will comply.”
It was just that simple for him.
“Those aren’t samples, Father.” I spat, my anger gaining traction. The flicker of heat in my chest flared brighter. “Samples would imply one or two vials. Not so much that your daughter nearly passes out.”
He studied me like I was an insect under a microscope. Then he tilted his head to the side and exhaled a small sigh.
“It’s research,” he finally said. “Doctor Albertson is using your blood to conduct very specific research that will benefit other Omegas. There are things about Omega science we still don’t understand. Fertility issues, designation-specific therapies, blood-borne illnesses.”
I scooted to the edge of the seat and sat up straighter. “I didn’t consent to—”
“You are my daughter,” he barked. His voice cracked through the room like a firework, and his fist slammed onto his desk so hard everything rattled.
I flinched, baring my throat as soft whine forced its way out.
I hated myself for it.
“You live under my roof. Eat my food. Drink my water,” he listed off each item like I had a choice in any of them. “You wear my clothes and read my books. I give you every advantage in life. Access to care, knowledge, as well as my protection as your father.”
I nearly scoffed. Protection? From what, the mice in the walls?
He certainly wasn’t protecting me from Alexander if he was considering handing me off to him.
“All I ask,” he spat, leaning over his desk, hands planted firmly on the surface, “is that you cooperate when your blood can serve a greater purpose.”
I swallowed thickly, then sat up, realizing I pushed myself all the way to the back of the chair. “I deserve to know what’s being done with my blood.”
He scoffed, cruel amusement in his eyes. It was there and gone so quickly I nearly missed it. Then that calm, collected mask appeared, hiding the monster from view.
Slowly, Father stood from his chair. The way he moved—like a predator preparing to attack—had my instincts screaming at me to run.
He rounded his desk with measured, sure steps. His gate was leisurely, like he was enjoying himself.
He stopped directly in front of me. He was close. Too close. He towered over me, forcing me to crane my neck back in order to see his face. I could smell his Alpha scent—overpowering and burnt with irritation.
“Stand up,” he demanded quietly.
I stood. My legs trembled, and I prayed he wouldn’t notice. Even standing, he was so much taller than me.
I hated it. It made me feel weak and small.
It made me feel like I might have made a huge mistake.
His hand reached for my face, and I flinched. But instead of striking me, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
It would have been a loving gesture coming from anyone else.
“You look so much like your mother,” he muttered. The way he said it—wistful, but proprietary, made my stomach drop. His fingers ran down my cheek and lingered on my jaw, tilting my face further so I had no choice but to meet his eyes.
“You have the same eyes. The same streak of stubbornness. It’s the only thing I haven’t been able to eradicate from you both completely.”
I felt my heart stutter in my chest. I wanted to close my eyes, look away, do anything but hold my father’s gaze in that moment.
“Your mother thought she should have autonomy as well, did you know that?” His thumb brushed across my cheekbone tenderly, and I had to choke back a whine. I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. I could hardly even breathe.
“Do you know what happened to her?”
Tears stung my eyes, and it took everything in me not to let them fall.
