Reality crashed over me like a giant, swallowing wave. The contract. The database. The matching program that had been the price of my survival. In the desperate fight to stay alive,I'd pushed that part to the back of my mind, focusing only on making it through each treatment.
“So, I get to survive just to become a product on a shelf, eventually bought by someone with, I’m guessing, a boatload of money.” I spoke flatly, earlier joy evaporated. I couldn’t be made. I’d agreed to this. I’d wanted to survive, even at the price of exchanging one cage for another.
Doctor Emerson winced. "I know it was easier to agree to things when you were doing everything possible to stay alive, Lucy. I also know how much you might want to break that contract. But you still need them. You aren’t totally cured yet. You’re a miracle, yes, but a miracle in progress.”
I turned away from him to look out the small window. As one often did, a bird flitted past the glass.
Free. So damn free.
Flying wherever it wanted.
I’d never be like that.
"I get it," I finally said, turning back to him. "I signed the contract. I agreed to this. It's just..."
"Overwhelming?" Doctor Emerson supplied.
"Terrifying," I corrected. "I've lived here forever. This place, this room, and everyone at Brightfield are home. Leaving here means no barriers, no safety net, no familiar faces. And I’ve never even dated or kissed someone or…" I swallowed hard.
Doctor Emerson's expression softened. "Lucy, I've known you for a great many years. You're stronger than you realize. This treatment didn't just rebuild your immune system—it revealed what was always there beneath the disease. Resilience. Determination. A stubborn refusal to give up."
“What if they match me with a total asshole? What if it’s a pack and they all hate me?” I frowned down at my bedsheet and started absentmindedly picking at some fuzz. "What if it'ssomeone who just wants an Omega trophy?" My voice caught on the last word. "I know I agreed to it, but?—"
"The Eros Institute doesn’t just throw Omegas to the highest bidder, Lucy,” Doctor Emerson said, his tone gentle but firm. "Their matching is scientifically based on compatibility factors. Physical, emotional, psychological?—"
"But ultimately, I don't get a choice," I interrupted. "I’m alive, but I signed away my future.”
He sighed, the sound heavy with an admission he couldn't voice aloud. We both knew the truth—the contract I'd signed when death seemed imminent had stripped me of autonomy I'd never fully appreciated until now. Autonomy means nothing when you’re one foot in the grave.
"When is the transfer?" I asked, forcing strength into my voice.
He hesitated long enough that I knew I’d hate his answer.
"Friday. You’ll take a medical flight to Seattle’s main airport where an Eros team will be waiting to receive you. It’s going to be chilly there, so I’ll make sure you have something warm to wear under the transport suit."
Two days. Forty-eight hours to say goodbye to the only home I'd known for what felt like forever.
"Will you come with me?" I hated how small my voice sounded, how childlike.
Doctor Emerson hesitated, his expression conflicted. "I can't, Lucy. I have other patients here who need me.”
“I understand.” I nodded; because of course I knew that. He couldn’t shirk his responsibilities for one person. “Dr. Emerson, can you do something for me?”
The question flew out of my mouth, but it was something I’d been thinking about for a while. A weight I needed gone.
“If it’s something within my power, I will.” Doctor Emerson waited patiently, his expression shifting between emotions, as ifunable to settle on one. The fine lines around his eyes deepened as I watched.
“Can you help me sign the trust fund over to my parents?” I asked, keeping my voice steady, not letting even a single syllable crack.
He held up a hand in surprise, palm facing me, body language clearing telling me to hit pause. “Lucy, you’re going to need that money in the future. You’ll need to?—”
I cut him off. “I don’t want their money.”
Something about my tone must have convinced him I wouldn’t change my mind.
“All right, Lucy. I’ll help you do that.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly, feeling suddenly strange that I was cutting away this last tether to my parents.
