7. Indigo
seven
Indigo
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
The walls close against me as I stumble away from the office.
Feverish shivers rake my body as sweat beads between my breasts.
My heart pounds in the same beat as the horrifying emptiness throbbing between my legs.
I choke on a sob when I realize how wet I am, how needy I feel.
My feet struggle at every step. The hairs on the nape of my neck rise, begging me to go back to them.
As if it’s unnatural to put space between us.
My belly twists into a knot, and a strong tether pulls me back from where I came.
Hank. Cassidy. Nash.
This is not happening. Not me. Why the fuck me? My hand flies to my mouth to muffle the scream when I think about what just happened. I don’t want to attract attention. God forbid someone stops me to ask what happened, so I swallow my horror back and concentrate on making it to my room.
Thankfully, I’m not very friendly on my best days, so when I keep my head down and avoid any eye contact, it is just another Tuesday.
The fact that Journey might be in our room flickers through my mind, but I can’t entertain that.
I need a place to fall apart in peace, and it has to be in my room.
But fuck, if I have to look at her big eyes while I do it, I might never get up again.
We have all been through similar trauma, but I’m not healing, not at all. Everyone is finally thriving while I’m still back at that breeding house, watching the clock tick until it’s time to get raped again.
Oh god.
Tears finally drop from my eyes, and I suck in a breath as I yank the room’s door open, ready to see Journey’s scared face, but I’m blissfully greeted by an empty room. The weight melts off my shoulder when I close the door and lean on it.
The relief doesn’t last long. Soon enough, I’m slammed with the reality of the situation, and I start hyperventilating once again.
My chest stings, and I press my palms over the spot as if I can stop the hurt with my hands.
I suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes closed, but all I can see is their faces.
They are so fucking tall. Hank is like a tank. I’ve never seen someone as big as him. Cassidy is so full of life, the opposite of Nash and me… no, Nash looks like an honest-to-god good person, but that doesn’t mean I want to be his fated mate.
I don’t want to belong to anyone.
After a lifetime being forced, the plan was to never have sex again. That’s what freedom is supposed to be for me. I don’t want anyone touching me ever again, but how can I do that when my body is singing for a pack?
Three Alphas? No. No fucking thank you.
At least I never had to be with three Alphas at the same time. We were so many Omegas for one pack, they often had to divide and conquer if more than one was ovulating. But that’s not how scent-match works. It’s not just when you’re ovulating, and it’s not just one.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Even as their faces appear behind my eyelids, my nipples pebble under my shirt, and instead of screaming in fear, I almost moan their names.
It’s not fair. I can’t give my body, not again when I wasn’t consulted.
Sure, this time no one is forcing me, but biology is forcing me, and that is just as bad in my books.
I can’t stay here.
My eyes open in a flash and it all becomes clear to me. It doesn’t matter if my body is crying for the pack. If I have to go to the opposite ends of the earth to avoid them, I will.
Nodding, the plan forms in my head and I jump to the trash, emptying the candy bar wrappers before I snag the bag.
I didn’t come with much. Most of my clothes were passed down to me by other Omegas.
I have a couple of denim shorts, my trusted black Chucks, a few T-shirts, and my favorite checkered shirt I’m wearing right now.
I stuff the trash bag with all my clothes and circle the bedroom looking for something I might have missed, but surprise to surprise, I have nothing else in my name.
The idea of going out in a Beta world when I don’t even have a last name used to terrify me, but I have a brand-new fear, and the path becomes clear. It can’t be that hard. I’m not stupid. I know how to read, I’m a quick learner, and I can be pleasant when I’m not being cornered.
So yes, I can go out on my own and get a job. As long as they don’t ask for an ID. I wince. Any job that won’t ask for an ID is not going to be something I should be doing, but fuck me, I can’t stay and wait for yet another pack to arrive and claim me.
It’s surprising they even let me leave that office for starters.
They looked like they were about to pounce on me, strip me naked, and claim me in every way.
I groan in need when I think about these nightmare scenarios, my hand pressing over my sternum, feeling my racing heart and damp skin under my fingertips.
I don’t have much time. I feel the heat coming to crash like an unending wave, and at its high, I won’t be able to think straight. I need to get out of here.
If I’m going to escape and hide, it needs to be at night. It’s not even midday, so I force myself to let go of my trash bag, push it under the bed, and then I sit down and wait.
The hours pass torturingly slow. Journey comes back to the bedroom, talking up a storm and asking me where I went.
My temple drips in sweat, my mind can’t hold on to a train of thought, but thankfully, she doesn’t push me when I barely answer her.
I wonder how bad of a friend I’ve been that she doesn’t even think I’m acting odd as I sit stiffly on the bed with my back to the wall watching the window.
There’s not a doubt in my mind I’m in heat. The fear growing inside my chest is nothing against the throbbing between my legs. Every ticking second, I’m less afraid but hornier, and the lack of rational thoughts is definitely a worrisome indicator.
Yet in the middle of the fog that is my brain, I realize I have to steal their truck. We are in the middle of nowhere, on the highway in Texas. I can’t walk aimlessly until exhaustion wins and I faint by the road.
Of course I don’t know how to drive, but I have time in my hands, time I need to use wisely until the sun dips on the horizon.
I look up the model of the truck online and make sure it’s automatic.
That’s one fewer problem. Okay, so now I just need to find a way to sneak into the office again, grab the keys, and steal a truck.
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.