Page 13 of Indigo

At every second, this jenga of plans becomes more impossible, but what is the alternative? Stay here? Accept the scent-matching and do what? Give myself again?

No.

Fuck no.

I’m going to fight with all I have. They won’t take me quietly.

They never do.

eight

Indigo

“You’re coming for dinner?” Journey asks, her head tilted to the side.

“I’m coming soon. Just go ahead and save me a seat.”

I manage to curl my lips in a trembling smile, and Journey breathes out, nodding and blindly believing everything is okay. Once she’s gone, I unfold my legs from under me, knowing this is the time to act. The packs will be at the dinner, so this is the best chance to try the office for the keys. I’m fucked beyond belief if it’s not even there, but I have to try.

My wobbly knees are unsteady, and I have to hold on to the wall not to fall on my face as I follow the path down the hall, avoiding everyone’s eyes once again. Omegas don’t have the sense of smell of an Alpha, and most of us have never seen an Omega going through heat, so I’m not scared that they will find out, but I don’t want anyone noticing how ill and crazy I look.

The office’s door is unlocked when I arrive. I know how to pick a lock, and I was prepared to do so, but the innocence of leaving the door unlocked makes my stomach churn with unease.

This is wrong. Stealing is wrong in any circumstance, but I can’t live like prey anymore. I don’t have anything even after months of being rescued. No ID, no bank account, no way to get a fucking job.

No last name.

The heat claiming the pit of my belly grows into rage and takes over my heart. I don’t want to be cornered anymore. I want autonomy, and I can’t ever get that if I stay with a pack. A nameless, jobless Omega and a pack who holds all the cards?

No. I can’t.

The fear of never really leaving the breeding house is enough to push me over the threshold, and I’m rooting through the drawers before I can stop myself. It doesn’t take long for me to find the keys. They aren’t hiding anywhere but right in the first drawer, alongside some office supplies and a wallet.

My hands are trembling when I take the keys, yet I don’t move. Eyes glued to the wallet until they are welled up with tears. I’m not an asshole. I don’t want to do this, but what are my chances of survival if I leave without any money? I don’t even know if the truck has enough gas to take me far from here.

With a curse slipping past my lips, I take the wallet, open it, and find myself staring at Nash’s driver's license.

Nash Anthony Brooks.

His name sounds good, but it cracks my tough exterior. His full name is a reminder I’m not really a person, so I can’t play by the same rules. I open the back compartment and breathe out in relief when I find a couple of hundred. If I get out of this, I’ll pay him back, I tell myself.

I make all kinds of promises to Nash right here. I think about leaving a note explaining my desperation, but there are notenough words in me to conjure what needs to be said. Besides, part of me wishes them to realize how fucked up I am and never go look for me. Scent-match or not, I wasn’t born like the other Omegas.

Ugh, even as the thought comes to my head, I roll my eyes. The words make it sound like I’m just so different and special, but god knows I’m everything but. I’m bitter and mistrusting. I don’t feel that overwhelming intuition guiding me that Manuela always talked about. I’m broken beyond repair.

They should be thankful they don’t need to stay with me. I rush from the office, never looking back until I’m in the main building and my feet bring me to the cafeteria. I’m late, but it’s wise to make an appearance. Plus, I don’t know when it’s the next time I’ll be able to eat.

With that thought in mind, I load my plate as if I’ve never seen food in my life, and make sure to take a couple of apples and put them on my tray to bring with me. That can be my breakfast tomorrow.

“Wow. Hungry?” Salem says as soon as I sit down with them.

I shrug, “First day of period.”

The excuse is perfect and has the effect I thought it would. They all nod sympathetically and don’t ask about my clammy complexion or my horrible mood. I eat in silence as they talk. Salem tells us she asked Beau a few questions about what they plan to do to us, but she didn’t get anywhere. To think I felt like Nancy Drew this morning and marched to that office to get answers is comical. Right now, I couldn’t care less. All I want is not to be mated.

We finish our food, and I take both apples and my bulging stomach to the bedroom. Journey stays with them, but doesn't wonder why I’m leaving in a hurry. It’s pretty obvious to anyone here that I’m all over the place. Even though I can’t leave until everyone is sleeping, I also can’t stay here and pretend I’m notabout to hurl everything I just ate. The anxiety is building to a level I’m about to vibrate off the seat.

Once I’m in the bedroom, I get everything ready to go, stuff the apples, money, and keys right with my clothes in the trash bag under my bed. I remove my shirt and put it under my pillow since the simple white tank I have underneath looks more like pajamas.