The thick scent of smoke and burnt flesh still lingered in Harper's nostrils, even in the refreshingly clean air of the room she had been dragged to.

Captured, beaten, bounded, agonizing pain.

There was a deep burn simmering in her stomach. Harper could hear her thumping heart in her ears. Her hot tears spilled down her cheeks like a broken faucet, the misty precipitation filled the lens of her glasses. Her tears seemed to be searing into her skin as if to constantly remind her of her miserable fate.

It's all gone. My home…Mom… Mom is gone. Everyone is gone. It's just me. A persistent voice inside her skull echoed. I'm all alone. And now…. A faint sob crept out of her throat. She blinked hard to keep her vision clear, but more tears kept surfacing the moment she banished the others away.

Momentarily Harper cast a slow gaze around her surroundings. The room where she was escorted was full of luxury. A polished wooden flooring, velvety couches, and sofas, and tall bookshelves of organized books that almost reached the ceiling. The luxury only made it worse, the extravagance making her ragged, raw emotions stand out even more. This was the type of place that held a refreshing ambiance that would calm a stressed soul. But she was still a helpless prisoner.

She definitely looked like one. She was still wearing her tattered clothing, and bits of dried blood clung to the sides of her bruised face and temples. Her hazel eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying. Her hair, which was typically tied neatly into two plaits, was now long and loose with grime and dirt.

Clenching her swollen jaw, the metal handcuffs that held her wrists felt crippling as Harper tried to adjust herself into a more comfortable position. She pulled against them, only for the rough steel to graze her skin and bruised it further.

It all hurt. She could feel it. The same scorching flame in her chest that wouldn't die out. The very flame gave her the raw strength to flee the village as it burnt to ash. The flame that remained with her when she had to flee from the men trying to sell her into slavery. It clawed into her heart as the blazing fire spread throughout her entire body. The endless pain and terror burned relentlessly, and all Harper wanted to do was for it to stop.

"Harper…Smith right?"

Harper slowly looked to face the sudden voice and met the bright blue eyes of a woman.

A tall, muscular woman that appeared to be in her early twenties knelt down to her, her dirty blonde side braid swayed as she released the chains attaching her to the pole with a click to the lock. Harper saw that she was keeping the metal handcuffs bound around her wrist.

"Hey, Harper, I'm Abby. Abby Anderson." She informed her in a voice that sounded friendly, but her expression was rather a odd expression which made her appear awkward. "I'm your older sister."

Harper frowned, confused. "Wha-what are you talking about? I….I don't have a sister."

"You do," Abby cracked a small smile. "Your mother is Diana Smith, right?"

Harper gave a silent nod.

"Where is she now?"

"Dead," Harper answered with half-lidded eyes moistened with tears. Her fists clenched as she took a brief pause. "Bandits killed her."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Abby's voice was taut with a sense of sympathy that Harper could hardly care for. "I was hoping that she was with you because I don't know if your mother told you about him."

Harper's eyes flickered at the woman in heavy annoyance but made sure to keep her tone steady and calm to one of her captors. "Who's him?"

"Jerry Anderson. Our dad." Abby answered simply. Then she reached down a hand into the pocket in her pant and dug for something. "I feel like this will be a better reminder. Hang on, I know I've got it somewhere…."

Finally, Abby produced the item. It was a small photograph that made Harper fight against tears.

It was of her mother holding her as a day-old baby. Willowy, long, vivid red hair, porcelain skin, and shining hazel eyes. Alive. Beside her were a smiling blonde-haired middle-aged man and a young fair-haired girl.

"You don't look like Dad at all," Abby commented after a tense, awkward pause.

"I take after her," Harper said quietly.

"I met you and your mother once when you were a baby and I was seven."

Harper stared at her in dead silence. The news of this didn't hit her like a punch to the stomach that shunted all of the air from her lungs as she half-expected it to. She merely absorbed it with a surreal feeling of calm.

She didn't feel much of anything at all, really—other than a twinge of surprise as she came to realize that this could be the reason why the WLF was so deadset on bringing her to Seattle after rescuing her.

Harper regarded the woman in front of her, still trying to decipher just what kind of person she was. She was strange, her voice sounded soft, but it still held a rusty edge. Her muscular form was unlike any woman she'd seen before and combined with her stiff expression, Harper was finding it hard to read her. In all truth, this woman seemed no different from her supposed rescuers who saved her from her captors only to beat her into submission and toss her into their truck when she tried to escape.

"There were tons of rumors going on about you and your mother living down in a small community nearby," the woman rambled on, crossing her arms. "Me and my mother have been looking for you for a long time. S—"

"What do you want from me?"

A raw silence fell over the room as the woman stared at her speculatively.

"Well….to be honest, I do need you for something from you, but I wanted to do this to pan out differently," Abby started in a voice that started to tremble without warning, "Unfortunately I don't think that's even possible…."

"Is this some kind of recruitment?"

When Abby only nodded once, Harper grimaced derisively. Silence ensued, the tension between the two growing thicker with each passing second.

"I need your help to find someone." Abby was the first to break the silence, her voice took a grave pitch.

Harper's lips thinned. Her request sounded more like a demand to her than anything else and she had to stifle a scoff at her audacity to ask her such a stupid request.

"Find someone?" Harper murmured. "What do you mean?"

"I need your help to track down a certain person that wronged us," Abby growled, fixing a look that could rival icicles.

"Wronged us?" Harper questioned. Only the bandits who killed my mother and burned down my village wronged me, no one else. She thought bitterly.

Abby nodded. "Yes, his name is Joel Miller, and he murdered our father five years ago. And I need you to help me find him and bring him to justice."

"No."

Abby flinched, visibly not expecting that quick response.

After a few beats of silence, Abby spoke up, and this time, her voice was filled with aggravation. "No? What the hell do you mean no? Are you serious?"

Harper straightened herself, maintaining firm eye contact with the woman. Her cool voice remained unchanged. "I am not helping you and I'm not going to risk my life over some pointless revenge for someone I never meet."

A flash of pure anger colored Abby's eyes, her hands balled up in fists. "Pointless?" Her voice raised several octaves. "Are you kidding? How can you call it that? Do you even know what you're saying?"

"I just met you and I never met him. I'm sorry but none of this is my business."

Abby stared hard at Harper, face reddening with veins beginning to protrude from her forehead. "It is your business. He killed our father, he took his life without a single care. Not only that but that one man is the reason why the Firefly is gone, why there's no—" She sucked in a deep breath through her clenched teeth. "Cure. He killed our last hope."

Harper fell quiet when she heard that. A cure…a cure for the brain infection? Never in her imagination, did she expect her father to be this apparently important Firefly.

Therefore Harper's mind did not change. She still did not know Jerry Anderson, and all she did know was that he was her father and nothing more. He wasn't in her life, to begin with. All she had was her hardworking, single mother for as all as she could remember.

"If you agree, you will have a bed, food, warm water, and shelter. You will never have to worry about anything ever again," Abby started. "All you have to do is—"

"Abby," Harper interrupted. "Look, I am sorry, but I'm not going to help you."

In a heartbeat, Abby's expression twisted into a dark grimace, her blue eyes narrowed to slits. "Well, that's not up to you." She deadpanned. "You're not going anywhere."

Harper flinched. At that moment she thought about running, just getting away from this strange woman. But from looking at Abby's livid expression, Harper knew that she wouldn't make it far. Instead, she stared at her silently, making a mental note to be calm before speaking again.

"Harper," Abby crossed her arms across her chest. Her expression was as cool as a statue, but it was her tone that showed the intense rage sizzling inside her. A disbelieving, sardonic scoff left her lips. "Unless you want to test your chances of survival with those man-eating creatures out there, I suggest you start rethinking your decision."

Harper had to clench her jaw tight to keep herself from cursing. It was only when she realized that Abby was taking no prisoners about her proposal did she begin to frown. Not out of confusion, but disgust. She did not like this woman—her half-sister— Harper hated her quite frankly —but she knew that it was best not to push her too far.

"How do you even know this man is even alive, huh?" She asked calmly. "He could be an Infected's breakfast by now."

"He is alive. I know he is. He's a frontline survivor. A career smuggler that's been around for years," Abby replied resolutely. "There's been rumors about him living somewhere in Wyoming."

Harper's brows clashed together in a confused furrow. "Rumors? So you're just going out on a limb."

"It's a lead." Abby made an irritating sound, meeting her gaze with a challenge. "Stop being a smart alec!"

This woman is crazy, Harper thought."Why do you even want someone like me? Just because we're half sisters doesn't mean I'll be able to help you. I'm not even a fighter."

"Because you could be put to use." Abby scowled. "Look, I'm going to cut to the damn chase. Issac left things to me, here's my proposition: join our military, and help me find Dad's murderer or I will throw you to the wolves. Your choice."

Then she turned away before Harper could have a chance to reply, and made her way to a nearby dresser. Harper silently watched her grab a heap of clothes.

She turned back to her with a heap of clothes in her hands and dumped the clothes on the couch beside her. "Change. This is for you. Change."

Change?

"Are you going to stand there forever, or what?" Her irritation doubled when Harper stubbornly stood still and continued to hold her tongue.

"Am I supposed to do it in front of you?"

"Shut up and change," Abby growled, aiming a stern finger at the heap.

Slowly and begrudgingly Harper made her way to the couch and took a piece of clothing.

As soon as she did, Abby turned around, taking firm strides toward the exit. She stopped just before she closed the door, her grim voice denoting her seriousness.

"Decide, and fucking make it quick."

Abby slammed the door on her way out.

Next change coming in early November. AD Chapter coming late November.