Runaway Rogue

Chapter One: Indigo's POV

Indigo didn't want to believe it, didn't want to even consider it. Every time she thought it might be true, something changed. One of the girls would be found out, someone would forget to take their medication, or they would be spotted by someone out in public. It took something so small to derail them all over again.

Indigo fought it with all her might, but it was true. She felt her smiles come easier, heard her laugh get louder and louder. Normal wasn't something she was entitled to, especially not when she had powerful suppressants running through her, but who needed normal when she was free?

"You're in a good mood today," Sasha commented, her hands working as they dried a cocktail glass. The two of them manned the bar together. A bubbly blonde and a storm cloud of a person.

"I'm in a good mood every day," Indigo replied, feeling a smirk tug at the corner of her mouth.

Sasha was one of the few that knew the reason for Indigo's often sour moods. Sasha had experienced some of the same cruelties that Indigo had, just on the other side. Joined together by some of the worst circumstances, they knew they could rely on each other.

"It's just starting to feel better, like home," Indigo confessed when Sasha raised a blonde eyebrow at her.

The curiosity in Sasha's expression vanished, her soft features on her round face sharpening. Her bright blue eyes darkened a shade then, her hands pausing their work. "Indigo, that's dangerous."

"It's normal," Indigo countered, though she could feel something dark twisting in her belly. It was the feeling that reminded her that she was not entitled to joy like everyone else. She was not entitled to a stable life or simple comforts like time spent with family.

"Listen, if you want to be excited about something, be excited about how much money we are making in tips. That means whenever shit hits the fan again-- because it will happen -- we can pay out the rest of our rent and have a little buffer to find a new place," Sasha said.

She was right and Indigo knew it. After everything they had been through, she really should have been grateful for the smaller things, like good tips and a healthy tourist season this year. More than once, they had to hop houses and skip town with almost nothing to their names. Every sleepy town meant starting over from scratch, living tightly, ignoring the hunger pains in the belly and the tears in clothes. Moving again wouldn't be comfortable, but at least they would be able to eat.

Indigo threw herself back into her work. It was nothing special, just a small run-down bar in a slow mountain town that only perked up on long weekends and holidays. On a Thursday night, she would stand behind the bar and serve her regulars, slinging gimlets and paralyzers all night, smiling prettily until they gave her an additional tip on top.

Sometimes, at the end of the night, Indigo stared at the money she earned, flimsy bills and heavy coins, and wondered how much it had taken for her father to give her up. Had it been thousands? Less? More? How could one put a price on a human? How could someone be satisfied with a dollar value when it came to family?

She used to get sick from the sight of money, just like she used to get sick at the sight of herself in a mirror. Back then, she had wondered if her nose had been too small for her face or if she had some graphic awful wound that she might not have been chosen. But now, she saw money and her beauty for what it was: power.

She would never be sold and married off again. She didn't care about mate bonds, about shifting into her wolf, or the status of alphas.

It had all been ruined for her.

Now, she only cared about her tip payout at the end of the night, mixing damn good drinks, and taking care of the girls who had become like sisters to her.