Plucked out of the Collector's Pens, auctioned off to a vampire contingent, and sent across the ocean to the Alpha Territories was not exactly how I planned to spend my week. Actually, scratch that. I had planned the first bit. But I was supposed to be sold to the werewolves so I could save my friend from a fate worse than death. Instead, the bloodsuckers have me and so far? It's not going great. I've been shoved into a corset and made to look like an extra on the cast of Bridgerton, all to take part in the Harvest Games--think The Bachelor set in the 1800's, but the men are all vampires, and then add a decidedly terrifying Squid Games element to the mix. No problem. My goal-besides keeping the number of holes in my body to the current norm-is more than surviving. It is escaping the inescapable, finding my way to the werewolf territory, and getting Jordan back. Cue the political strife. Armed with nothing more than a super sharp hairpin, my questionable charm, and an irrational amount of optimism, plans to get both me and my bestie out alive are in full swing. Until the General of the Vampire Army and his molten eyes light me on fire and leave me wondering if escape is what I want after all. Maybe one extra set of holes wouldn't be the worst thing ever...