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Chapter Text

Vi had always known that life in Zaun wasn’t fair. From the moment she could walk, she had learned to keep her head down and her emotions buried deep beneath the weight of survival. Zaun wasn’t a place for dreams—it was a place where every day was a battle for air, food, and safety. The world had no room for softness, and Vi had learned that well. It didn’t matter how the people around her saw her, or how she felt inside. All that mattered was making it through, day after day, without giving in to the bitterness that seeped into her bones.

Her school—if it could even be called that—wasn’t any better. The broken walls, the overcrowded classrooms, and the stale air were constant reminders of how little the world cared about Zaunites. Education wasn’t a promise of opportunity; it was a grim necessity. The curriculum focused on basic survival skills—trade, scavenging, mechanics, anything that could help the students learn how to keep the engines of Zaun running. But there was no room for ambition or imagination. The chances to escape or rise above were slim, and Vi had long since stopped dreaming about what could be.

That is, until the council announced something unexpected: a partnership between Piltover’s most prestigious school and a select group of Zaun's public schools. A program designed to open new doors for students like her, to show them that there was a world beyond the smog and machinery of Zaun. Vi didn’t believe it at first. She thought it was some kind of trick—an empty promise to pacify the masses. But the more the program was talked about, the more Vi started to wonder if this was her chance to escape, even if just for a little while.

The program promised to let students from both nations get to know each other—explore the realities of life in Piltover and Zaun, and hopefully learn something about themselves along the way. Four subjects: Social Sciences, Humanities and Arts, Physics and Mathematics, and Chemical and Health Sciences. Each was supposed to help students find their path, give them a better understanding of the world they lived in.

Vi didn't care much for the details. She wasn’t interested in what Piltover had to offer. All she wanted was to get out of the suffocating world of Zaun, even if just for a short time. A brief respite from the grind, a taste of something different.

Vi had spent countless nights contemplating an escape from the suffocating misery that only Zaun seemed capable of offering. For a while, the thought of surrendering to the same pathetic fate as everyone else on the Undercity didn’t seem so far-fetched. It was easier to accept that life was nothing more than a brutal fight for survival, and maybe that was all she could expect. But every time she started to slip into that dark mindset, Powder’s face would flash in her mind—the image of her little sister, eyes wide with admiration, always telling her how she wanted to be just like her.

Powder looked up to Vi in a way that made her heart both swell and ache. The weight of her sister’s expectations—her belief that Vi could be more than this life—was too much to ignore. It was impossible for Vi to give up, not when Powder’s dreams were tied to her own actions. Did she really want to throw it all away, become just another lost soul in this broken city? Or did she want to be the person Powder thought she was? The person her sister admired so deeply?

No. Vi couldn’t do it. She couldn’t let herself become one more of the pathetic idiots who gave in to the rot of Zaun. Powder deserved more, and so did she. If there was even a sliver of a chance—if she could somehow apply for that program, the one that promised a way out—she would take it. No hesitation. No doubts. She wasn’t going to let anything hold her back this time. Not this time.

The first thing Vi did that morning was wake up even earlier than usual. She had to. She got dressed with extra care, trying to make herself look “nicer and cleaner” than she felt, because she needed this to work. She couldn’t afford to fail—not now. This was her chance, and if she didn’t make it count, she’d be stuck in the same rut, doomed to repeat the same cycle.

When she stepped out of her room, Powder trailing behind her, complaining about being hungry and needing breakfast, Vi’s gaze met Vander’s. The way he looked at her—was it surprise? Could he tell she was making an effort, even if she felt like she was failing? That moment of uncertainty made her stumble slightly on her resolve to do better. She wasn’t sure if Vander saw through her, but it was enough to make her question herself.

“Someone decided to join us for breakfast today, huh?” Vander smiled warmly at Powder as the girl eagerly reached out for a single grape, her little hands quick as breakfast preparations were being finished.

“She even put on an alarm,” Powder said around the grape, spitting out the seeds in a casual gesture that made Vi’s brow furrow. She shot her sister a stern look, but Powder just grinned back, unbothered. “Sorry,” Powder said with a shy smile, picking up the seeds she had dropped. Vi softened slightly but didn’t let her guard down—this was important, and she couldn’t afford distractions, not when every step felt like a battle.

Vander shot her a brief look before plating their breakfasts. “Well, that’s something new. Care to tell us the reason?” He sat down across from her, his eyes locking onto hers, and for a moment, Vi felt trapped—like there was no way out of his gaze. She wasn’t sure why she felt this way. After all, making a change should feel empowering, especially when it could open doors to a better future. So why did she feel like a traitor? Like she was betraying everything she knew, all for the chance at something better. Something better for Powder.

Even Vander had been pushing her to aim higher, to look beyond the streets of Zaun for a chance at something more. He had always encouraged her to find a way out, to seek a life beyond the suffocating limits of their world. But this—this choice—felt different. It felt like she was stepping into the unknown, and part of her was scared to leave behind everything that had shaped her.

But Vi wasn’t about to share this inner turmoil with anyone, so instead, she shrugged it off. “I gotta set an example for this one.” She offered a light smile at Powder, who was practically inhaling her breakfast. Wait—why was she that hungry? Vi frowned, a wave of concern creeping in. “Hey, slow down. It’s not going anywhere.”

Powder chowed down her breakfast in less than two minutes, but somehow, she still looked cleaner than Vi did on her best days. “Mylo can come in any second and eat it, so I gotta take the chance, y'know?”

Vi raised an eyebrow, furrowing her brows as she scanned the room. She hadn’t seen Mylo or Claggor in a while. “Where are they, anyway? Shouldn’t they be getting ready for school?” Vander sighed heavily, and Vi couldn’t help but turn her head towards him. “What’s up?” she asked, her voice edged with concern.

“Mylo told me last night he’s not goin' to school anymore,” Vander said, his tone matter-of-fact yet tinged with something else—something that felt a little heavy. “He didn’t wanna give me much more detail, but he seemed certain about it.” He reached over and gently took Powder’s plate from her, trying to prevent her from making a mess.

Vi fell silent, processing the news, but after a few moments, she stood up abruptly, anger flashing in her eyes. “He can’t just quit like that! He can’t just decide it for himself!”

Vander’s gaze softened, and he set the plate down on the counter. “Vi, I can’t force him to do somethin’ he doesn’t want to.”

Vi’s frustration mounted. “And Claggor? He’s quittin’ too? Is he really gonna follow that idiot?”

“I don’t know, Vi, but please—calm down,” Vander said, his voice steady but firm. “Claggor hasn’t said anything. It’s just Mylo, all right?” He shot a brief look at Powder, his gaze softening as he tried to reassure her. She was staring at him, her brow furrowed in concern. “Nothing’s wrong, kid. Don’t worry,” he added, his tone gentle, though it didn’t quite erase the unease in her eyes. “I’ll talk to them both and see what’s goin’ on.”

Vi clenched her fists, the tension in her body so sudden and intense that she barely realized she was doing it. It wasn’t until her body started to ache, the strain evident in her muscles, that she noticed how tightly wound she was. She lowered her head, her gaze falling on Powder. The sight of her little sister’s face, tinged with worry, made the weight in Vi’s chest heavier.

Vi immediately softened. She hurried over to Powder, kneeling down beside her, and gave her a warm, reassuring smile. “Hey, Pow Pow, it’s okay,” she said gently, trying to soothe her. “Don’t worry about me. I—I just overreacted, that’s all.”

Powder gave Vi a shy, tentative smile before getting up and heading to brush her teeth. Vi watched her go, her gaze lingering on her little sister for a moment longer than usual. When Powder disappeared into the bathroom, Vi released a heavy sigh—one that carried the weight of frustration, fear, and a thousand unspoken thoughts. Vander, noticing her quiet turmoil, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The gesture was simple, but it spoke volumes—he was worried too.

“You gotta talk to them, Vander,” Vi whispered after a few long seconds, her voice tight with a mixture of concern and helplessness. She turned her head slightly, avoiding his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much this was eating at her. “You—You always tell us we should aim for something better, right? I want them to be better, fuck!" Her fists clenched at her sides, her emotions rising to the surface. "I know Mylo has the potential to be a total genius if someone just… if someone just pushes him, encourages him enough.” She let out a frustrated breath, her mind racing. “And Claggor… he’s even more of a genius than me and Mylo put together. He has so much to offer, but—” She paused, her voice faltering as doubt crept in. “But if they just walk away from it all, what’s the point?”

“Well, kiddo,” Vander started, his voice soft but firm, “sometimes you can’t force someone to be something they aren’t.” He withdrew his hand from Vi’s shoulder, and immediately, a sense of emptiness settled in. Vi felt the absence like a weight pressing down on her chest—alone, vulnerable. “It’s not right,” Vander finished, his tone heavy with the wisdom of someone who had lived through more than his fair share of pain.

Vi turned to face him, her eyes hardening with frustration. “But it’s not fair to you,” she snapped, her words sharp with the sting of unspoken resentment.

“Fair?” Vander echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yes, fair!” Vi’s voice shook as she took a step back, her anger and helplessness tangled together. She threw her hands up in the air, her frustration bubbling over. “You’ve been doing everything you can to give us a better life, and those two idiots… they’re just wasting a chance. It’s like they don’t care!” She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to hold herself together. “It’s not fair to you, Vander. It never will be.”

The moment Vander wanted to argue against Vi’s words, those words that usually left him thinking for hours or even days, got caught in his throat when Powder came back from the bathroom, her backpack slung over her right shoulder. “Vi, it’s your turn to brush your teeth.”

Vi released the tension in the room, letting go of the tension in her body as she nodded, agreeing with Powder. With an amused smile, Powder pushed Vi toward the bathroom, even though her backpack—heavy as if it were filled with rocks instead of notebooks—slipped off her shoulder. Vi would check later what the hell that girl was carrying in her bag to school.

.

Vi had just dropped Powder off at her classroom, watching her sister dart away as if the bell might ring any second. She was about to turn and head to her own class when something stopped her—a buzz of voices, a growing crowd. Students had gathered around one of the school’s walls, all staring at the same announcement, their faces a mix of disbelief, skepticism, and a hint of hope.

She had heard about the new program—everyone had—but seeing the official notice made it feel so much more real, and that made the doubts come flooding back. A few students were already muttering under their breath, shaking their heads as if to ward off the idea itself. “This is just another stunt, right? They’re not actually gonna let us in. Piltover doesn’t care about us,” one boy sneered, glancing at the others for confirmation. “It’s a damn joke. They just want our hopes up so they can crush them again.”

But not everyone was so cynical. Vi could hear the whispers from the other side of the crowd—people who were a little more excited, though still cautious. “I mean... it’s the best school in Piltover, right? Maybe they’ll actually give us a chance. Maybe this is what we need.” A girl gripped her friend’s arm, eyes wide as she scanned the announcement again, almost too afraid to believe it, but unable to stop hoping.

Vi felt the weight of the murmurs swirling around her. The same people who had doubted this program for weeks were now looking at it like a dream they never thought they’d have a chance to touch. Vi had seen it all—the doubt, the fear, the disappointment—but also the faintest glimmer of belief, of possibility.

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. She knew the program had potential, but she had also seen how quickly things could fall apart in Zaun. Could this really be different?

Exciting New Opportunity for Zaunite Students!

Presented by The Hextech Collegium

In an unprecedented initiative designed to bridge the gap between the heart of Piltover and the resilience of Zaun, The Hextech Collegium is proud to announce a groundbreaking educational program exclusively for students of The Gritstone Institute.

This unique partnership aims to offer you access to a world-class education, providing an opportunity to explore the cutting-edge fields of social sciences, humanities and arts, physics and mathematics, and chemical and health sciences. This program is designed not only to enhance your knowledge but to give you the tools to build a brighter future for yourself, your community, and beyond.

Our goal is to ensure that Zaunite students have the chance to discover their true potential, offering a hands-on approach to learning, mentorship by the finest minds in Piltover, and a path to new career opportunities. Whether you dream of becoming an inventor, a scientist, or a leader in any field, this program will guide you every step of the way.

Details:

• Program Duration: 1 Year
• Eligibility: Open to all students of The Gritstone Institute
• Subjects: Social Sciences, Humanities & Arts, Physics & Mathematics, Chemical & Health Sciences
• Location: Piltover
• Applications Open: Now
• Deadline: November 16th.

This is your chance to experience education like never before, to challenge yourself, and to take a step toward a future full of possibilities. The Hextech Collegium and The Gritstone Institute invite you to apply and join this remarkable journey!

Caitlyn stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the announcement plastered on the wall, the cold air of a September Monday biting at her skin. The words on the paper seemed to blur for a moment as she processed the shock that settled in her chest. She gripped her left wrist, a nervous habit, her fingers pressing into the fabric of her sleeve until it almost hurt. Around her, students crowded together, reading the same announcement, murmurs of disbelief and confusion rippling through the crowd.

The announcement, though succinct, carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. The council of Piltover, in what could only be described as a controversial decision, had opened up a prestigious educational program to students from Zaun. It was something most students from the upper city had never imagined would happen — the idea that those from the Undercity, with all their grit and rough edges, could be offered the same opportunities as the privileged elite of Piltover.

Caitlyn's gaze flicked across the faces of her fellow students. Many of them wore looks of disbelief, some of them outright angered by the decision. Whispers filled the air, and a few students even muttered about it being a "scam" or "a way to make Piltover look generous." The murmurs of dissent spread quickly, with many questioning why their council would consider offering such a prestigious opportunity to kids from Zaun — the very place that some Piltover citizens considered little more than a breeding ground for trouble.

For Caitlyn, the reaction was something she expected. But still, it was a bitter pill to swallow. She had grown up in the shadow of Piltover’s high walls, taught to believe that the city’s wealth and power were reserved for the few who were deemed worthy. The idea of Zaunites being given access to the same educational opportunities that Piltover’s elite students fought tooth and nail for felt wrong. It felt like a challenge to the very foundation of what she’d always known. But why?

Usually, this program was a prestigious affair, reserved for the most promising students from around the world — a chance to study abroad, experience new cultures, and represent Piltover on the global stage. But somehow, in an unprecedented move, the council had decided to bring the program to Zaun. They would select students from there, offering them a chance to join Piltover’s academic elite.

The decision seemed almost surreal to Caitlyn. She could hardly believe it. What was the council thinking?

She felt a prickle of discomfort. The very notion that the council could open such an opportunity to students from Zaun — the same city where she had heard whispers of corruption, violence, and crime — made her uneasy. But there was something else beneath that discomfort, something she couldn’t quite place.

“Can you believe this?” a voice broke through her thoughts, and Caitlyn turned to see one of her classmates, a girl named Felicia, shaking her head with an expression of disdain.

“They think they deserve this? Zaunites?” Felicia scoffed. “As if they have any business with our education.”

Other students nearby nodded in agreement, their words laced with contempt. Caitlyn remained silent, her fingers tightening on her wrist as her thoughts churned. It was so easy for them to dismiss it — easy to look at the kids from Zaun as “other,” as less deserving. But Caitlyn knew better. She had seen firsthand how desperate some kids in Zaun were for a chance, for an opportunity to break free of the life they were born into. Could this be their chance?

But there was still that bitter edge of jealousy. She had worked hard to be where she was, to be a part of Piltover’s elite school system, and now... now they were supposed to share it? She wasn’t sure if she was ready to let that go.

The crowd continued to buzz with murmurs of outrage, some students already making bets on how long it would take before the program failed, or how the Zaunite kids would mess it all up. Caitlyn could hear the words piling up, but her thoughts remained stuck, tangled in her own emotions.

“Do you think anyone from Zaun will actually make it?” Felicia muttered as she gave Caitlyn a sideways glance.

Caitlyn didn’t answer. Her gaze drifted back to the announcement on the wall, the words blurring again as her mind raced. Was this a chance for change, or was it just a token gesture? Was it really about education, or was it just about appearances?

All Caitlyn knew was that this was a moment that could reshape everything. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for it — but she knew it was coming. And that feeling, more than anything else, unsettled her.

Felicia scoffed, her eyes hardening with bitterness as she casually tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, I’m sure this comes as no surprise to you,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Your mother is behind all of this, isn’t she?” Caitlyn turned sharply, locking eyes with Felicia, her expression hardening into a stern glare. But Felicia didn’t flinch or look away. Instead, she stepped closer, her voice laced with scorn.

“My brother told me he went to Demacia, had the time of his life there—” Felicia paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, then continued with a sharp edge, “But as for me? I’m stuck here. I have to stay here and let those... savages...” She sneered, the word thick with contempt, “...coexist in the same space as me? Well done, Cait. Truly.”

That comment made Caitlyn bristle. “What do you mean, well done?” she retorted, her tone sharp. “You think this is my doing? I had nothing to do with this.” She felt the urge to roll her eyes but resisted the temptation—she wouldn’t give Felicia the satisfaction.

“Oh, really?” Felicia raised an eyebrow, her expression dripping with sarcasm. “If I recall correctly, last year you gave that pompous speech about giving Zaunites the same opportunities. Remember?” Felicia straightened her uniform with a flick of her wrist, clearly pleased with herself. “So, I'd say you had a bit of influence on this decision.”

Caitlyn’s mouth snapped shut, her teeth clenching. She couldn't deny it. Felicia was right. Caitlyn had indeed delivered that speech, thinking it would be a small step in standing out on her own—no longer just the daughter of the councilwoman, but a person with her own voice. She’d spoken passionately about the children of Zaun, about the poor choices they were left to make, about how their lives could be different, better. But she had never imagined that anything would actually come of it. Caitlyn was left stunned by the reality unfolding before her.

Felicia leaned back slightly, her smirk growing wider as she eyed Caitlyn. “You don’t have anything to say?” she asked, her tone dripping with mockery. She tilted her head, as if savoring the silence that hung between them. “Not what I would expect from an elite alpha like you, but then again, I suppose we all have our moments of weakness.” Her eyes glinted with amusement, clearly relishing Caitlyn’s discomfort.

She crossed her arms, her stance casual but her words sharp, as if she were dissecting Caitlyn's every move. “I mean, I thought you'd have some clever retort—something dignified, perhaps. But here you are, just... silent.” She took a slow step forward, lowering her voice just enough to make it sound more threatening. “How very unlike you, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn stood there, her jaw clenched as Felicia’s words lingered in the air, each one a silent jab at her composure. It took everything inside her not to snap, to lash out and make Felicia regret every word she’d said. But Caitlyn wasn’t the impulsive, hot-headed girl she used to be. No, she was learning to rise above, to stand tall in the face of provocation.

Instead of reacting, she straightened her posture and met Felicia’s gaze with cold precision. “If you’re looking for a fight, Felicia, you’ll be disappointed,” Caitlyn replied evenly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside her. “I don’t have time for petty arguments.”

Felicia’s smirk faltered, just slightly, as she realized Caitlyn wasn’t going to play her game. But she wasn’t ready to back down. “Oh, I see. So now you’ve become the noble, untouchable girl. Very nice. But don’t think you’re going to escape this so easily. You’ve put this mess in motion, Cait, and now it’s all falling apart. Don’t pretend you didn’t know that would happen.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed slightly, the weight of Felicia’s words sinking in. It wasn’t just about the program, or the Zaunites being allowed into Piltover’s schools—it was everything that came with it. The expectations, the pressure, the fear of it all going wrong. But Caitlyn wasn’t going to let Felicia see her sweat. She wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“I’m not running away from anything, Felicia,” Caitlyn said firmly, her tone colder now, sharper. “But you should know something.” She took a step closer, her eyes locked onto Felicia’s with unwavering intensity. “Change isn’t easy, and sometimes it’s uncomfortable. But it’s happening, whether you like it or not. And I’m not backing down from what’s right.”

Felicia’s expression hardened, her smirk replaced by a look of thinly veiled disdain. She opened her mouth to respond, but Caitlyn turned away before she could say anything more. She didn’t have the time to waste on someone like Felicia, not today. Not when there was so much more at stake.

As Caitlyn walked away, she could almost feel Felicia’s eyes boring into her back, but she didn’t look back. She was focused now, resolute. This was just the beginning.

.

The drops of sweat stung her eyes, her arms throbbing from the relentless punches she’d thrown, each one a cry for something she couldn’t name. Her core burned with the strain, her legs threatening to collapse beneath her. Every breath came in ragged gasps, so wild and heavy that it felt like she might exhale flames—an inferno she could unleash on anyone foolish enough to get too close at this moment. Her body was trembling from exhaustion, the rhythmic pounding of her heart echoing in her ears, but her resolve remained unbroken. Even as her vision blurred, and the world around her seemed to tilt, Vi knew one thing for sure: she wouldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever. The fire inside her—whether it was from the fight or something deeper—kept her standing, pushing forward.

“Well done, kid. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.” Vander’s voice was steady, warm with a hint of pride, as he watched Vi. “Making me proud, aren’t you?”

The softness in his smile caught Vi off guard. For a moment, it felt like time had slowed, her body still buzzing with the aftereffects of the fight. She blinked, and slowly, the tension in her muscles began to ease, her stance softening as she snapped out of her trance. She took a deep breath, realizing how tightly wound she’d been, but Vander’s calm presence grounded her. His approval, however quiet, washed over her like a much-needed balm, and she allowed herself to relax—just for a moment.

“I’m still nowhere near my goal, but I’ll take it.” Vi’s voice was low, but there was a flicker of pride behind her words as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Her gaze lingered on her water bottle, but her thoughts weren’t entirely there. She could feel Powder and Ekko’s eyes on her—both of them watching her with wide, proud smiles.

The sight of their grins caught her off guard, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest. It was a simple thing, really—just the two of them watching her—but in that moment, it made her feel like she was doing something right. That small, unspoken approval? It felt like a victory in itself. Vi couldn’t help but smile a little, her exhaustion fading just enough to feel proud of herself.

“A goal? Didn’t know you had one, kid.” Vander’s voice was teasing, but there was something else behind it—curiosity, maybe even a bit of admiration.

Vi shrugged, trying to brush off the moment. “Uh, it’s nothing. Just... something I want to achieve, that’s all.” She pulled off her training gloves, the worn leather sticking slightly to her palms from the sweat, before reaching for her water bottle.

She took a deep breath, pausing for a second to steady herself before tilting the bottle up. The cool water felt like heaven, but as she gulped it down, the sensation was overwhelming. She drank like she hadn’t had a drop in hours—no, days—and within moments, she realized her chest was tightening.

She coughed slightly, her breath hitching as she set the bottle down. Damn it, she forgot she wasn’t supposed to drink like that. She had a habit of guzzling water when she was thirsty, but now, her heart was racing, and she felt a constricted sensation in her chest. Vi winced, her mind catching up with her body, and she couldn't help but mutter under her breath. “Great, I’m gonna give myself a heart attack if I keep this up.”

Vander chuckled softly, the sound warm and gravelly. He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, as he watched Vi recover from her training. He couldn’t help but think back to the first time he’d “met” her—back when she was just a bump in her mother’s belly, no bigger than a peanut. He hadn’t been able to feel her kicks or imagine what she’d look like, but even then, he’d made a promise to her mother: that he’d protect her, raise her strong, and teach her to stand tall against whatever the world threw her way.

It wasn’t easy being different in a world that liked to shove everyone into neat little boxes. Vander had seen the way people looked at her sometimes, expecting her to back down or step aside. But Vi had made it clear, time and time again, that she wasn’t like the others. She didn’t need anyone to stand up for her. She could handle herself just fine, thank you very much.

Vi had never fit the mold people tried to put her in. Being an omega had always set her apart, but not in the ways most expected. She didn’t fit the stereotype of a gentle, docile omega waiting for someone to protect her. No, Vi was fire and fists, all sharp edges and raw determination. If anything, her status made her fight harder—not just for herself but for her siblings and friends, for the people who mattered.

Trouble seemed to follow her like a shadow, or maybe it was the other way around. Vander chuckled again at the thought. Vi wasn’t the type to start fights without a reason, but she sure as hell wouldn’t back down from one, especially if it involved her siblings or friends.

To be fair, Vi’s idea of resolving conflict wasn’t exactly diplomatic. Let’s just say she had her own set of rules: no more than a few broken noses, and maybe a tooth or two knocked out—nothing too permanent. And while some might scoff at the idea of an omega throwing punches instead of asking for help, Vander couldn’t help but feel proud. She was proving, every day, that strength didn’t belong to any one dynamic.

He shook his head, watching her now, her body trembling with exhaustion but her resolve unshaken. She was soaked in sweat, her chest heaving, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed. She was a handful, no doubt about it. But she was his handful, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Vander approached cautiously, his movements deliberate, as if not to startle her. He could see the tension in Vi’s shoulders, the slight quiver in her arms as she steadied herself against the wall. She was strong—stronger than most—but there were moments when even she needed to be reminded to take care of herself.

Leaning slightly toward her, his voice low and calm, he asked, “Have you taken your suppressants?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, quiet but weighted. It wasn’t accusatory, just concerned. Vi stiffened, her shoulders squaring instinctively as her jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, she didn’t respond, staring at the floor like it held all the answers she couldn’t give. Her fingers flexed at her sides, a telltale sign of her inner frustration.

“I’m fine,” she muttered finally, though the words came out a little too clipped to be convincing.

“Vi,” Vander pressed gently, his voice softening further, “that’s not what I asked.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, dragging a hand through her damp hair. “Yeah, yeah, I took them,” she said, though there was an edge to her tone. She finally looked at him, her gaze guarded. “I’m not some ticking time bomb, okay?”

But even as she said it, Vi felt the familiar weight settle in her chest. Being an omega in Zaun was like carrying a brand she never asked for, and it always seemed like the world was waiting to remind her of it. She’d spent so much of her life pushing back against the stereotype—against the fragility, the expectation to submit, to be docile and soft—that sometimes she forgot her body didn’t care about her rebellion.

Suppressants kept her in control, let her keep up the façade of being just like everyone else, but they came with their own costs: the headaches, the fatigue, the gnawing sense of something missing. And on days like this, when her body was on fire from training and her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was fighting more than just exhaustion.

Vander studied her in silence, his brow furrowing. He’d known Vi long enough to see through her bravado, to recognize when she was putting up walls because she didn’t want to seem vulnerable. “I’m not saying you’re a bomb, Vi,” he said after a moment, his tone steady. “I just... want to make sure you’re looking after yourself, is all.”

The words softened her resolve, but only a little. She looked away again, arms crossing tightly over her chest. “I don’t need looking after,” she grumbled, though the bite in her voice had dulled.

Vander sighed, leaning back slightly but keeping his gaze on her. “You’re tough, kid. No one’s arguing that. But even tough folks need to know when to rest.”

Vi didn’t respond, but the way her lips pressed together told him she was at least listening. With that, Vander felt satisfied. Humming a tune, he walked over to the small corner where he had a towel rack set up just for Vi. After every training session, he made sure to leave her a clean towel so she could at least wipe off the sweat, freshen up a bit, and head to the bath. But he knew her too well—on the days he wasn’t around to keep an eye on her, Vi would often skip the bath altogether, collapsing straight into bed with the sweat, grime, and smell clinging stubbornly to her skin.

Of course, this always turned into a problem the next morning when Vander went to wash the sheets and found them dirtier than they had any right to be. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she’d skipped her bath again.

For all her sharpness and independence—qualities that made her more than capable of looking after Powder on her own—Vi had a frustrating tendency to neglect herself. And that meant Vander often had to stay on top of her, much to her annoyance.

With an amused glance in Powder's direction, Vander raised an eyebrow, prompting the little girl to scrunch up her nose and pull a funny face. She puffed out her chest with exaggerated determination and declared, “Don’t worry! I’ll make sure Vi takes her bath tonight—no skipping!”

Vander chuckled softly, ruffling her hair affectionately. “I’m counting on you, Powder. Keep her in line for me.”

Satisfied, he nodded, giving them one last glance before heading out. He had plenty to take care of—The Last Drop didn’t run itself, and with the constant hustle and chaos that came with managing Zaun’s most notorious tavern, Vander always had his hands full.

As he walked away, he could still hear Powder’s playful chattering, no doubt plotting creative ways to boss Vi around. It made him smile—a rare moment of normalcy in their unpredictable lives. But even as he left them to their antics, the weight of responsibility lingered on his broad shoulders. For all his love for the kids, the shadows of Zaun were never far behind.

As soon as Vander’s heavy footsteps faded down the hallway, Powder turned to Vi with a mischievous grin while Vi turned to see her and Ekko with a sour expression on her face. “Really? You don’t even like when I tell you to go and take a bath most of the time.”

“This is not about me.” Powder shrugged before smiling once again. “So, big sister, bath time!” Powder wiggled her fingers like she was casting a spell, her eyes sparkling with mock seriousness. “You can’t escape this time, or I’ll—uh—tell Vander you ate all the good bread yesterday!”

Vi, sitting slumped against the wall and still wiping the sweat from her face, groaned. “Oh, c’mon, Powder. Don’t be a snitch. I’ll take a bath… eventually.”

Powder crossed her arms, tapping her foot like a tiny drill sergeant. “Eventually isn’t good enough. You smell like you’ve been wrestling with sewer rats.”

That earned her a tired but amused laugh from Vi. “Wow, thanks for the support. Just what I needed after training.”

Ekko, who had been quietly tinkering with a small gadget he’d brought along, finally piped up. “She’s not wrong, Vi. You do smell like—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Vi shot him a warning glare, but there was no real heat behind it.

Powder darted across the room, grabbing the towel Vander had left behind and waving it like a victory flag. “Come on! If you don’t go willingly, I’ll drag you there myself!”

Vi raised an eyebrow, smirking at the tiny girl. “You? Drag me? I’d like to see you try.”

Powder puffed up her cheeks, clearly undeterred by the challenge. She grabbed Vi’s arm with all the determination of a warrior facing an unbeatable foe. Ekko chuckled, watching the scene unfold. “Powder, I don’t think that’s how physics works,” he teased, earning a playful glare from her.

“Shut up, Ekko! She’s going to the bath whether she likes it or not!”

Vi finally relented, raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going. No need to stage a revolution.” She pushed herself up, legs still a little wobbly from training, and took the towel from Powder with a half-smile.

Powder beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “See? Told you I’d win.”

As Vi trudged off toward the bathroom, she called over her shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t start planning my next bath schedule, okay?”

Powder turned to Ekko, grinning like she’d just saved the day. “Told you I could do it.”

Ekko rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, sure, Powder. Real heroic.”

The two stayed behind, their chatter filling the room as Vi’s footsteps disappeared down the hall. For a moment, everything felt easy, like they were just kids without a care in the world. It was a fleeting feeling, but they held onto it for as long as they could. As much as Vi loved the way her life was in that exact moment—a cozy routine of training, teasing Powder, and surviving the streets—she knew deep down that it couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, things had to change. She couldn’t let this life—the grime, the struggle, the weight of Vander’s quiet sacrifices—be the one that caught up with Powder. Her little sister deserved better.

Powder needed a shot at something brighter, something bigger. A chance to escape the shadows of Zaun, to claw her way to the surface and carve out a life so good, so dazzling, it would make everyone up there jealous. Vi could already picture it: Powder’s clever ideas coming to life, her endless energy channeled into something extraordinary. Sure, most of her ideas didn’t work the first 67 times—but the 68th? That’s where the magic happened.

Vi couldn’t help but smile at the thought, pride swelling in her chest. Powder was a scrappy little genius, even when her experiments blew up in her face—sometimes literally. Every mistake Powder made only brought her closer to success, and Vi knew that’s what truly mattered. Mistakes were just stepping stones, and Vi would be there every step of the way, cheering her on, patching her up, and picking her up when she fell.

But the hope she had for Powder wasn’t the same hope she had for herself. Lately, Vi felt her own grip on that kind of optimism slipping. The future felt heavy, uncertain, like a storm cloud hanging just out of reach. She’d trade every ounce of her own hope if it meant Powder could have a shot at the kind of life they both dreamed about.

Because that’s what big sisters did, right? They gave everything for their little sisters.

Anything for her little Pow Pow.

.

Caitlyn felt like an intruder for the rest of the day. It wasn’t just the awkward moments in class or the silence that felt more suffocating than usual—it was the way her own mind seemed to betray her. As the hours ticked by, her thoughts were consumed by a storm of doubt and frustration, swirling around the teasing from Felicia that had lodged itself deep under her skin. She hated it. She hated how easily Felicia could get under her nerves, how much control she had over her emotions despite Caitlyn’s best efforts to appear unaffected.

By the time the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, Caitlyn felt as if she were trapped in someone else's life, like she was watching herself move through the motions from a distance. Her mind wasn’t in the present; it was lost in a labyrinth of intrusive thoughts, tangled with the constant reminder of how Felicia had baited her so expertly.

The way Felicia teased her, it felt calculated. Caitlyn refused to give in to the satisfaction of showing how deeply the words had cut, how much they stung, but it was impossible to ignore. The truth? Felicia had a way of making her feel vulnerable, of pushing every button Caitlyn didn’t even know she had. And while Caitlyn refused to admit it, part of her felt that everything Felicia said might actually be true. And that was terrifying.

What was even worse was the knot in her chest, the way her heart seemed to yearn for Felicia in a way that Caitlyn couldn’t fully understand. Was it her heart or her body? She couldn't tell.

They had always been like this, Felicia and her—two alphas, their rivalry balanced on the fine edge of power and pride. They shared a certain understanding, an unspoken language that only the two of them knew, but lately, it felt like something had shifted. Every interaction, every word between them felt charged with something Caitlyn wasn’t ready to confront. Felicia seemed to be constantly in her face, pushing her buttons, making her question everything.

But it hadn’t always been this way. No, it started a long time ago, when Caitlyn was still young—too young to understand what she was feeling, but old enough to know that she had a crush on Felicia. She had tried to bury it, tried to pretend it wasn’t there, but Felicia always knew. And ever since Caitlyn rejected her, Felicia had made it her mission to keep pushing her, to keep reminding her of what could have been.

Yeah, Caitlyn had a crush on her—always had, ever since she was barely old enough to understand the feelings swirling inside her. She’d tried to ignore it, tried to suppress it, but it was there, like a constant undercurrent in everything she did. And Felicia? Felicia knew it. She always knew. And she used it.

Both alphas, both powerful, and both with the kind of influence that could command attention from anyone—Caitlyn included. Felicia had a way of making her feel like she belonged to her, as if Caitlyn were just another piece in her game. And the worst part was, Caitlyn let her.

As Caitlyn stepped out of the school, she quickly scanned the area, her eyes narrowing in search of her chauffeur. It didn’t take long before she spotted him standing by the car, waiting patiently for her. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she hurried down the few steps to reach him, desperate to avoid Felicia’s prying eyes and the inevitable round of teasing that would follow if she stuck around any longer. The last thing Caitlyn needed was another hour of snide remarks, not today.

She had already had more than enough of Felicia’s games, the way she poked and prodded at Caitlyn’s vulnerabilities. School had been a battleground, and Caitlyn was tired—tired of the mind games, the verbal sparring, and the weight of it all. But a nap, she thought, would surely fix everything. It always did.

With a familiar, curt greeting, Caitlyn slid into the back of the car, buckling her seatbelt with an almost mechanical motion. As the engine hummed to life and the car started to pull away, Caitlyn closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of quiet peace. All the stress and tension that had built up over the course of the day seemed to fade into the background as the car passed by the school, leaving behind the chaos of the day. Felicia, the school, the noise—all of it was now distant, far enough away that Caitlyn could finally breathe.

As they drove off, Caitlyn allowed herself to forget for a little while, to let the worries stay behind with the school and the drama. For now, it was just her and the quiet, and that was all she needed.

Caitlyn took that moment to lay her head back against the plush seat, closing her eyes just enough to let the world blur around her. The steady hum of the car’s engine was soothing, the rhythmic motion lulling her into a state of calm. It was a long drive home, and she decided to take full advantage of the quiet time. Her mind wandered briefly, the chaos of the day still lingering in the back of her thoughts, but she focused on letting it all fade away, focusing instead on the calm.

This was her time to unwind. She could feel the tension in her shoulders begin to ease, the tightness in her chest relaxing with each passing mile. She’d spend the rest of the evening focusing on her homework, working out to burn off whatever energy she had left, and then—if she was lucky—spending some time with her father once he was home from the hospital.

She had always made time for him, no matter how hectic her schedule became. That was her routine, and she would stick to it, even if it meant sacrificing a bit of her own downtime. But for now, as the car sped toward home, Caitlyn allowed herself to simply rest. It was a rare moment of peace, one she wouldn’t take for granted.

Caitlyn didn’t know when she had fallen asleep, but she was jolted awake by the soft jolt of the car pulling over. Her eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, and she squinted against the fading light as the grogginess of her nap lingered. It took her a moment to process the fact that they had already arrived home.

She let out a quiet sigh, stretching her stiff muscles as she unclipped her seatbelt with a quiet click. Her body felt sluggish, still caught in the drowsy haze, but the thought of being home gave her a small spark of energy. Without a word, she slid out of the car, her shoes clicking against the pavement. The chauffeur would take care of her bag later, she knew.

She moved toward the entrance of the manor, her footsteps echoing on the stone pathway. The guards standing at the gates nodded respectfully as she passed, their silent acknowledgment a quiet comfort. Caitlyn barely spared them a glance, her mind already shifting toward the evening ahead. She’d take care of her responsibilities, as always. But for now, the soothing familiarity of home was enough.

She ran, despite the fact she was forbidden to do so when inside the house, but with her parents away, there was no one to scold her. She made her way to the kitchen, a wide smile spreading across her face as the delicious aromas of her meal reached her nose, making her stomach growl. Lydia, the head cook, was busy plating the carefully prepared dishes, while the other servants worked to set the table. Normally, Caitlyn wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the real kitchen. Her stubbornness in trying to cook on her own, despite having no skills, had once nearly set the manor on fire. But today, she was determined to get close enough to catch a glimpse of the magic Lydia was working.

“I can tell someone’s very hungry,” Lydia said with a knowing smirk, her tone playful as Caitlyn practically leaned over the counter, her eyes widening at the feast being plated in front of her. The aroma of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and spices wafted in the air, causing Caitlyn’s stomach to growl in agreement.

“You know my mother has me on that ridiculous diet,” Caitlyn grumbled, her voice tinged with frustration as she crossed her arms. She rolled her eyes dramatically, the memory of her mother’s obsession with her “nutritional well-being” flooding back. “I’m starving.”

Lydia’s eyes softened with understanding, but there was a mischievous gleam behind her smile as she continued arranging the food. Caitlyn, however, was lost in her own thoughts. She couldn’t shake the images of her mother—always so meticulous—discussing with her personal nutritionist about what “foods would best enhance her growth.” The constant talks about protein, fiber, and portion sizes were endless, all with the goal of making Caitlyn taller, stronger, and supposedly more “fit.” But Caitlyn didn’t feel any stronger. In fact, it seemed like all they cared about was making her body fit into some idealized image, one that had nothing to do with what her body actually needed. The diet itself felt like a never-ending cycle of bland meals that did little to satisfy her hunger, especially when what she needed most was good, hearty, comforting food—plenty of fat and calories to properly fuel her. How was she supposed to grow if she wasn’t allowed to eat anything that tasted good?

“I just don’t get it, Lydia,” Caitlyn muttered, glancing down at the vibrant array of dishes Lydia was setting out. “Who’s going to grow from kale and quinoa? I need food that actually fills me up.”

Lydia chuckled softly, clearly amused by Caitlyn’s frustration, but gave her a sympathetic nod. “You’re preaching to the choir, my dear. But hey, at least we’ve got this.” She motioned to the meal she was preparing, her hands moving quickly but with care. “One day, you’ll be free to eat whatever you want.”

Caitlyn gave a half-smile, thankful for Lydia’s kind words, but the thought of being able to eat without restriction still felt like a distant dream. For now, she had to settle for sneaking bites here and there when no one was looking, and a large plate of food at this very moment was something she wasn’t going to waste.

“Soooo, what are we having?” Caitlyn asked, lightly changing the topic as she followed Lydia around the spacious kitchen. Her stomach grumbled loudly, betraying her calm demeanor as her mind focused on the thought of food.

“For a starter... lobster bisque,” Lydia said, glancing back at Caitlyn with a sly smile, clearly enjoying the anticipation she was stirring.

“That sounds absolutely delicious. I’m drooling right now, not joking at all.” Caitlyn’s eyes practically sparkled at the thought, and she couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. Her stomach gave another demanding growl, and she felt her mouth water. The rich, buttery taste of lobster, paired with a creamy bisque... it was exactly what she craved after a long day of school.

Lydia chuckled, clearly amused by Caitlyn’s enthusiastic reaction. “Good to know. And I hope you’ll have space for the main course—roast beef with Yorkshire pudding.”

“Ugh, Lydia, you are actually killing me.” Caitlyn dropped her head back, looking up at the ceiling in a mock-dramatic gesture. The mere mention of the perfectly roasted beef, the crispy, airy Yorkshire pudding with its savory aroma, and the rich gravy made her stomach twist in hunger. She was practically salivating. “But you know she’d forbid you to serve me that,” Caitlyn continued, her voice a mixture of frustration and resignation. She crossed her arms over her chest, already bracing for the inevitable refusal from her mother.

Lydia raised an eyebrow, her expression filled with mischievous confidence. “I’ll tell her it’s okay. That’s low in calories and high in protein. It fits the ‘healthy’ guidelines.”

Caitlyn squinted her eyes at Lydia, skeptical. She could see the way her chef was scheming, but she knew better than to trust it too easily. “Last time you tried that, she didn’t give a damn about your ‘healthy’ spin. And I went to bed that night craving crème brûlée, knowing full well I wouldn’t get any. So... don’t even try it.”

Lydia paused and gave Caitlyn a sheepish look, not entirely surprised by the memory. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off the dessert for today. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re well fed—even if it's in sneaky little ways.” She winked, clearly enjoying her role as Caitlyn’s secret ally when it came to breaking the rigid dietary rules imposed by her mother.

Caitlyn smirked back, her lips twitching in amusement. “Sneaky ways, huh? We’ll see if that works, but don’t get your hopes up. You know how she is when it comes to the 'perfect' diet.”

Lydia gave Caitlyn a playful smirk, her eyes twinkling with mischief as Caitlyn returned the expression, feeling a bit of camaraderie in their shared moment of rebellion. They both turned back to the meal preparations, completely unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows of the grand kitchen.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. “Mind telling me what Caitlyn is doing here?”

Caitlyn froze, her stomach twisting with a sudden wave of discomfort while she turned around. She swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry as her mother’s gaze locked onto hers. It wasn’t the first time she'd felt this tension, but it still hit her like a punch to the gut.

There, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, was her mother—Cassandra. Her presence seemed to fill the room, every inch of her poised and immaculate. Her hands were elegantly entwined in front of her, her fingers interlaced in a way that made her appear even more sophisticated, as if it was some sort of quiet power she wielded without a word. She wasn’t just a mother; she was a force, an elegant and intimidating figure, and her sheer composure only made Caitlyn feel smaller, like a child caught in the act.

“I... I was just hungry,” Caitlyn stammered, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to fight the sudden unease spreading in her chest. She was already regretting being in the kitchen without permission, knowing how strict her mother could be about her diet and habits.

Cassandra’s perfect posture was an abominable mockery of grace. She stood tall—taller than any normal person had the right to stand—and her appearance was like a meticulously crafted statue, one that seemed to mock the very people who might force themselves to imitate such poise and elegance. It was a facade that felt suffocating, a presence that made Caitlyn feel like she was nothing more than a child who couldn’t escape her mother’s watchful eye.

With an almost imperceptible tilt of her head, Cassandra’s eyes swept over Caitlyn and then to Lydia, as if assessing every detail. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken rules and expectations, before her mother spoke again.

“And what exactly is Lydia doing, allowing my daughter in the kitchen?”

The words were polite, but they held an undeniable edge, as if Cassandra was accustomed to being obeyed without question. Caitlyn felt a pang of frustration, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. It wasn’t like she didn’t already know how things worked—her mother had always been this way, always with the watchful eye, always controlling, always perfect.

“Just telling her what she has to eat in order to be healthier.” Lydia’s voice was calm, unwavering, a subtle challenge hidden beneath the sweetness. “She knows the food I cook for her has to be perfect in every sense, so I’m just making sure she understands how much you care about her, and the ways she must be properly nourished.”

Caitlyn couldn’t bring herself to meet her mother’s gaze immediately. Instead, she focused on her shiny shoes, the reflection of herself and her mother staring back at her. She saw the perfect image of Cassandra, standing tall and poised with a kind of effortless grace that Caitlyn could never seem to replicate. The silence between them stretched out, thick with tension, as if her mother was waiting for her to speak.

Cassandra didn’t move, not even a flicker of impatience showing on her face. She stood with her arms elegantly folded, her posture as flawless as always, her presence like an immovable force in the kitchen. The air felt heavy, but Caitlyn knew better than to break the silence first. She had learned that with her mother, words were a weapon, and sometimes, silence was the only shield she had left.

After what felt like an eternity, Cassandra reached out, her hand gentle but controlled, brushing a lock of Caitlyn's hair behind her ear with an unexpected tenderness that Caitlyn couldn’t fully process. It felt too foreign, too calculated, like a rehearsed gesture that should have felt warm but instead made Caitlyn flinch inwardly.

“That’s good to know, darling.” Cassandra’s voice softened, a change from her usual authoritative tone. But Caitlyn could see it—there was something in her eyes that wasn’t quite love. It was something closer to pride, maybe a sense of accomplishment, but definitely not the genuine affection Caitlyn had longed for.

Caitlyn lifted her eyes reluctantly, locking them with her mother’s. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond to the calm words that felt like an echo of the mother she wished she could have.

“I want you to be in your best form,” Cassandra continued, her voice now a touch softer, almost coaxing. “I only want the best for you, my sweet girl.”

Those words, Caitlyn had heard them a thousand times, yet they never seemed to carry the weight they should. Was this truly love, or just another expectation? She couldn’t tell. It all felt like part of the same pattern—a carefully orchestrated show to keep up appearances, to remind Caitlyn of her place in the world.

“I know, mum.” Caitlyn's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but she forced a smile, the kind she had perfected over the years—a smile that could mask the uncertainty in her eyes. It was a smile meant to reassure, to show that she was fine, even when she wasn’t.

She looked at her mother, trying to appreciate the rare moment of affection, even if it felt hollow. It was as though Cassandra’s gestures, no matter how tender, were always wrapped in an unseen layer of expectation. Caitlyn couldn't remember the last time her mother had shown her kindness without it being tied to some goal or ambition.

But today, in this fleeting moment, Caitlyn allowed herself to hope—just a little—that this small, random act of care could be real. She clung to that sliver of warmth, knowing it might be the only thing she’d get for the day, if not the week.

For now, she'd take it. Because sometimes, it was all she had.

.

“We discussed it for months, and, don’t want to sound smug, but I was the one who polished every part of this new program.” The soft clinking of forks against fine china filled the air, the sound almost musical in its sharpness. The atmosphere around the dining table felt sophisticated, but Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice the underlying tension in her own body as she absentmindedly traced the rim of her water glass. “I just wanted to give those poor kids the chance to experience a real opportunity at life. I want them to savor the success they could achieve.”

Caitlyn could almost hear the pride in her mother’s voice, a pride that was reserved for things that seemed so distant to her—things like opportunity and success. She’d heard her parents speak of these ideals countless times, often in grand terms, but never once had Caitlyn felt that these “opportunities” reached beyond the walls of their sheltered world.

“I’m so proud of you, my love. You always know what is best for the people.” Tobias’ words were smooth, like a velvet caress, as Cassandra glanced lovingly at her husband. The way she smiled at Tobias was the same way she always did—like he was the only person in the world that mattered. It was the kind of love Caitlyn was used to, yet it always felt like an alien thing to her—something that existed only between them and nowhere else.

It was sickening sometimes, but it was also funny. The over-the-top affection, the constant attention to their own little world—it was something Caitlyn both envied and resented.

“I’m sure we’ll see some good minds.” Cassandra hummed softly, her voice carrying the air of someone certain of success. She took a delicate bite of her meal, chewing slowly and thoughtfully, never once breaking the rhythm of her grace. “Just see Viktor, he’s from the undercity, and look at what he’s accomplished. Brilliant, don’t you think, Cait?”

Caitlyn’s name pulled her from her thoughts, and she instinctively put down her fork and knife, turning her gaze to meet her parents’ expectant eyes. They were waiting for her to join the conversation, to contribute in some meaningful way. Normally, she’d just nod or hum in agreement, not wanting to draw attention to herself. But now, Caitlyn couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment was different.

Why was her mother asking for her opinion? Why now?

“Uhm,” Caitlyn hesitated, feeling a knot form in her stomach as she searched for the right words. “Most of my classmates are disagreeing with the program.”

The reaction from both parents was instant. Tobias frowned slightly, and Cassandra’s smile faltered just for a split second before she masked it with a polite expression. “What do you mean? Are they uncomfortable with the idea?”

“Something like that.” Caitlyn shrugged lightly, unsure of how to explain the discomfort she felt—her classmates' voices filled with skepticism, their faces hard with judgment. “Many of them think it’s a bad idea and that the Zaunites don’t deserve a chance like that.”

Cassandra’s lip curled slightly, almost imperceptibly, before she caught herself, smoothing her expression back into one of composed grace. “Well, darling, they don’t know better. They have a wonderful life, with everything they could ask for. They don’t know struggle.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flickered down to her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. The tension from her mother’s words settled uncomfortably in her chest. “Neither do we,” she muttered under her breath, though it was loud enough for them both to hear. “But still, it’s a normal reaction from them.”

Taking a bite of her meal, Caitlyn tried to calm herself. Her mother’s view of the world, so insulated and removed from anything that didn’t fit into their perfect life, was hard to bear sometimes. The privilege, the constant reminder that they were the ones who gave—who decided what was best—never sat well with her.

“Felicia was mad at me, actually.”

The mention of her name made Tobias sit up straighter, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Felicia? Your friend?”

“She’s not my friend, just a classmate. But yes, she was mad. Still is.” Caitlyn let out a small sigh, her voice tight with frustration. “She thinks it was my idea and that I convinced you to create the program.”

There it was. The accusation. Caitlyn could feel the weight of it, like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach. The idea that she was somehow responsible for this, that her name would be dragged into this political and social minefield because of an assumption—it made her want to crawl out of her own skin.

Her mother’s silence hung in the air, heavy and expectant, as if waiting for Caitlyn to explain herself more. But Caitlyn didn’t want to explain. She didn’t want to defend herself, not when the truth was far too complicated to put into words.

“Oh, love. It really was thanks to you.” Cassandra’s voice softened, and her lips curved into a smile that Caitlyn had only seen on rare occasions. It was the kind of smile that seemed to belong to moments meant for family portraits, for the press, or for when one wanted to convey sincerity with a touch of elegance. Was this one of those rare moments? Caitlyn wondered. Her heart skipped slightly, unsure of whether to feel honored or confused.

It can’t be, Caitlyn thought, her mind racing to process the words. Her mother—her calculating, perfection-driven mother—was acknowledging her contribution? And not just any acknowledgment, but this? Cassandra had never been one to admit anything openly, especially not something like this.

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed as she glanced down at her plate, struggling to reconcile the words with the woman she knew. Taking my speech to heart… and… and creating the educational program? How? The thought echoed in her mind, the idea of her mother acting on something Caitlyn had said, actually using her words as the inspiration for a program—something so real—felt foreign. Was this really happening?

Cassandra leaned back in her chair slightly, her fingers delicately holding her wine glass as she gazed fondly at Caitlyn, seemingly unaware of the mental whirlwind her daughter was going through. “I’m so proud of you,” she added, though her tone now had an unfamiliar warmth to it, a softness Caitlyn wasn't used to hearing. “You always bring such insight, even when you don't realize it.”

Caitlyn's mind buzzed with contradictions. Her mother, always so pragmatic and distant, was suddenly praising her for the most vulnerable thing she'd ever expressed—an idea that hadn’t been well-received by her peers. This was not the usual sharp, calculating woman who preferred to mold everyone around her into her vision of perfection.

Maybe she’s just trying to flatter me, Caitlyn considered, but something about the moment—something about her mother’s expression—told her it was real. Cassandra wasn’t just going through the motions. She really meant it.

As the conversation in the dining room carried on, Caitlyn found herself sitting in a strange silence, her thoughts swirling. Her mother’s words lingered in the air, like an unsolved puzzle she couldn’t quite piece together. Was this truly a step forward, or just another game?

She glanced at her parents, who were lost in their own world of praise and plans. Tobias smiled at Cassandra, their shared pride almost tangible, but Caitlyn couldn’t shake the feeling of being left out, as if her part in this wasn’t fully her own. The pressure to excel—to be perfect—was never far behind, especially when her mother’s expectations weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

Caitlyn’s Alpha instincts gnawed at her, urging her to take charge, to rise above, to be the example others would look up to. It was exhausting. Cassandra always made it clear that Caitlyn had to be more than just good enough. She had to be extraordinary—the Alpha that every Omega would look up to. And now, with this program, Caitlyn had become a symbol, a tool for her mother’s success, but Caitlyn wondered—was it really for her, or was she just another chess piece on her mother's board?

Her thoughts snapped back to the program—the undercity kids, Viktor, and the doubts swirling among her classmates. Her own feelings about it all were too complex to unravel in one conversation. But something told her this program, this newfound acknowledgment from her mother, was going to change everything.

But for better or worse?

Caitlyn pushed her plate aside, the rich flavors no longer satisfying. She could feel the weight of her mother’s pride, but it tasted like salt in her mouth. Her mother had praised her, yes, but Caitlyn wasn’t sure whether it was because she was truly proud of her… or if it was simply because Caitlyn had become the perfect vessel for her ambition.

Her mind wandered to the pressures of being an Alpha, especially under Cassandra’s scrutinizing eye. Every move Caitlyn made was watched, every choice analyzed, every success or failure a reflection of how well she lived up to the family legacy. She couldn’t let her mother down. She wouldn't let her down, but the toll it took... the constant vigilance, the impossible expectations... Caitlyn wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending it didn’t bother her.

Standing up from the table, Caitlyn excused herself, the noise of her parents’ conversation fading behind her. She made her way down the hallway, feeling the weight of the Alpha blood coursing through her veins, always aware that her role in the family was much more than just a daughter.

Her hand brushed against the cool marble of the staircase as she paused, staring at the polished doors of her private study. The reflection in the glass seemed unfamiliar today—she was still the same Caitlyn, the same confident Alpha, but there was something else. The pressure. The fear of failing her mother, of not being the perfect Alpha, was suffocating. Her eyes drifted to her reflection—young, uncertain, yet carrying the weight of expectations far beyond her years.

This is only the beginning, Caitlyn thought, her heart racing with a mix of defiance and dread. The world outside her family’s control was vast and uncertain, but one thing was clear: whatever was coming, she was going to have to face it head-on.

Her mother’s approval, her relentless desire for Caitlyn to be more than just an Alpha—the Alpha—had set the stage for something Caitlyn wasn’t sure she was ready for.

The stakes were higher than she’d ever known, but there was no turning back now.