Chapters 1 Indigo

by Phoenyx Saint

Sometimes I dream. Dream of bigger and better places than this. Places where I can be free to live the life I’ve always wanted. To explore. To enjoy the world around me. Learn and touch. Feel. Breathe.

Orym, that sounds so good right now.

My eyes flutter closed, and my hand stills mid-swipe as the vision fills my mind.

Green. Bright and bold. Blue, cloudless skies. Water so pure you could bathe in it. Drink from it. Devour it. Wildlife chatters and coos all around me. I smile. They’re so free here. Free to exist as they want. To run and hunt with their families.

Their mates.

Clean, cool air consumes me as I inhale deeply. I hold on to it, capturing it in my lungs, refusing to release it until I’m gasping for more.

My lips part. My chest heaves. My eyes burn. And suddenly, I’m no longer in the beautiful place I’ve only ever imagined and dreamt of exploring, but I’m back in the gilded cage that holds me.

A ragged cough launches its way through my aching lungs, and despite how hard I try to keep it in, it escapes my lips. Loudly.

My eyes snap open, and panic replaces my blissful state. I search the spacious foyer for any sign of life or prying eyes, ready to report my crappy cleaning skills. Again. Luckily, I find myself alone.

Covering my mouth with the crook of my elbow, I succumb to the coughing fit my chest is aching for. When my lungs feel clearer, I’m doubled over, and my face is covered in hot tears.

My stomach aches as I push myself upright, but I ignore it the same way I ignore everything else. I wipe my face on the long sleeve of my black uniform, thankful that I’m not allowed to wear makeup. I grimace as I imagine the backlash of dirtying up something that doesn’t belong to me.

Yeah. That’s not a mistake I’ll ever make again.

"Andromeda," a voice hisses, making me jump. My eyes snap to the left as recognition washes over me. I grip the dusting spray and rag harder, preparing for the incoming battle. A battle I won’t win, no matter how badly I wish I could. "Answer me, Andromeda."

"Indie," I whisper under my breath. Rolling my shoulders, I reply softly. "Foyer, ma’am."

Swallowing thickly, I straighten my spine and continue cleaning the entry table as I wait. Heels click across the marble floor at a rapid pace. I try to tune them out, but I can’t. It’s impossible. Instead, I lift the golden glass orbs that serve as useless pieces of decor on the round entry table and dust beneath them quickly.

It’s only mid-morning, and the sun is brightly streaming through the grand floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s hot on my back, and a trickle of sweat works its way down my spine beneath the oppressive, baggy clothing I’m required to wear.

Black slacks, a size too big that are shapeless and thick, paired with a long-sleeve, black button-down that I’m pretty sure belongs to one of the boys instead of me. Black, shiny flats that dig into my toes and ankles leaving blisters nearly every day, complete the simple uniform.

The only saving grace is that my long, thick, dark hair is in a tight bun instead of covering me like a heated blanket.

The sound of her shoes grows louder, making her presence known. Even though I’ve yet to look up, I already know she’s nearly reached the bottom of the East Wing staircase, more than likely having left a meeting in the office just to yell at me. Crap.

Five, four, three…

My hands shake so hard that I miss a spot. It’s not noticeable. In fact, I’m positive that no one in this massive, opulent home would ever care to inspect my work after I’ve completed it, let alone take note of any missed dust particles on an otherwise pristine piece of furniture.

Well, no one except for me and—

"What is fucking wrong with you, girl?" She hisses. I swallow again and gently set the glass orb down, knowing it’ll be worse if anything winds up broken on my watch.

So much worse.

The second the gold ball touches the table, she’s on me. Long, sharp fingernails dig into my thin arm, yanking me from my work. The rag slips from my hand, but I hold on to the polish for dear life. If nothing else, it’s a weapon, right?

I scoff internally as she whips me around like a chew toy. I’d wind up dead if I dared to lash out. Even in self-defense. Especially against her.

Lilith Risna. The house manager and my supervisor.

She’s a beta, but she feels like an alpha. A fact she and everyone else in this godforsaken place knows. Most of the staff are terrified of her. Not just because of her position in the house–her authority and connection to the head of the household–but because of her alpha tendencies.

Betas are typically small in stature. Thin, short, weaker than most. Easy to control and pray on. Easy to dominate.

Like me.

Like Lilith should be.

But looking at her now, she’s anything but weak.

My emerald eyes barely meet her large chest, a place I’m not particularly eager to stare at, but I don’t dare look up. To do so would be an act of defiance. A punishable one–and I’m not in the mood right now.

I also don’t look down like I should. The small rebellion is all I have in this massive house.

Prison, my brain corrects. It’s a prison, Indie. Besides… you’re not alone.

I shut that line of thinking down immediately. It does me no good.

"Why in Orym’s name are you making all that racket?" She snarls as though I’ve purposefully wished to be sick. She grunts, squeezing my fabric-covered arm harshly. The pain is intense, but I don’t give in to my desire to flinch. I’d never give her that.

Biting my lip, I debate my options. She’s asking me but doesn’t care about the answer. In fact, I’m betting this is all a test. I’ll be punished for speaking out of turn if I respond now. If I don’t, I’ll be punished for ignoring a direct question from my superior.

"Answer me, child," she demands, shaking me roughly.

Child. As though I’m not a nineteen-year-old adult who’s barely ten years her junior. Lilith isn’t even thirty, yet somehow, she’s achieved a position as head of staff for the infamous Idris Savas, a man scarier than anyone I’ve ever met.

Cold. Callus. Calculating.

It’s no wonder they get along so well.

She grips me harder; I can’t fight the pain this time. A whimper leaves my lips, and I give up the internal debate, granting her what she wants.

"I’m sorry, ma’am." I’m not . "I didn’t mean to be loud." I’m just sick and exhausted, no thanks to you. "I’m nearly done with the foyer. Then I’ll be out of the way." As if I could ever be in the way. I’m so small, I’m practically invisible.

Time moves slowly, and with every second that passes, my anxiety grows until I’m nothing but a shaking pile of bones beneath her oppressive shadow. Lilith inhales sharply, a movement I catch clearly with my eyes locked on her massive chest.

Betas don’t have big boobs. I should know.

I internally roll my eyes. Like that matters. No one wants to touch my boobs, anyway.

Fuck, Indie. Stop thinking about boobs.

A low, slow chuckle leaves her inflated lips. Her breath fans across my forehead, and instinctually, I look up. It’s a mistake. I knew it before I consciously did so, but it’s too late.

Her angular features are difficult to look at, much like an alpha’s. They’re gorgeous in a way that’s painful to us lower designations. Her jaw is sharp, her cheekbones defined. She really shouldn’t look the way she does. We all know it, but no one dares speak the truth into existence.

Lilith takes enhancement drugs. She must. There’s no other way.

Enhancement drugs increase an alpha’s dominance. Their muscles grow infinitely more prominent than they’d naturally become. They’re quick to snap, aggressive, and terrifying. Their barks are almost impossible to ignore.

They’re also highly illegal and forbidden in most territories, including ours.

If she’d actually been born into a body that would have eventually presented as an alpha, she’d probably have more good tendencies, to go with the bad. A stronger, deeper purr. An unnaturally heightened need to protect others.

But Lilith isn’t an alpha.

And she has no favorable qualities.

Something she further proves with her rough palm as it collides with my much smaller cheek. My head whips to the side, but her tight grip on my arm keeps me in place. Her fingernails dig into my skin so hard I know she’s leaving marks on my flesh, even through the long shirt. A whimper escapes me, and my eyes immediately sting with the familiar burn of tears, but I blink them away.

"You are nothing but a problem. An annoyance," she hisses, yanking me into her body and making me stumble. "You don’t deserve this life."

She’s not wrong. I don’t deserve this life. In fact, I’d give it up in a heartbeat.

She towers over me, a severe look plastered across her face as she spits her vitriol. Lilith isn’t nearly as tall as an alpha. Height isn’t something enhancers can change. But with her six-inch heels and my five-foot stature, I feel like a kitten next to a rottweiler.

My chest collides with her stomach, and try as I might, I’m unable to look away from the angry expression on her heavily made-up face.

"Nothing but trash. An inconvenience. He should never have allowed you to stay here." I swallow thickly, her words hitting their intended mark, and she grins triumphantly, knowing she’s winning. Maybe not always, but definitely at this moment.

The fact of the matter is, once again, she’s not wrong. I don’t belong here. Never have.

Not that it’s ever been my choice.

Choking those words down, I nod once. "You’re right, ma’am." She’s not, though it’s getting harder and harder to believe it every day. "I apologize for being loud." I swallow the bile creeping up my throat as bone-deep fear makes me shake harder. "If I could just get to work, I’ll finish up and head back to the service quarters."

I hate how weak my voice is. How broken.

“Ma’am,” a voice calls, making my heart jump, but I don’t dare look at the newcomer.

Lilith does though, her head snapping to the side, a glare already plastered to her evil face. “What do you want?” she hisses.

The woman clears her throat before she speaks. Her voice is thick, raspy and familiar. Inside, I smile, knowing who sent Marcella. The reminder that I’m not alone spurs me on, keeping me strong in the face of Lilith’s torture.

“I came to discuss the shopping lists,” Marcella says softly, but sternly, her accent flowing thickly from her lips. “We need supplies if we are to make dinner.”

Lilith tightens her grip on me, completely uncaring that the kitchen manager is currently watching her little performance. “Go back to the service quarters,” she grits out. “I’ll speak to you when I’m ready and not a second before. Do I make myself clear?”

I can almost picture Marcella narrowing her eyes, her fists clenching at her sides as she fights to restrain herself. My inner- smile peaks out, making my lip twitch as my eyes slide to the camera in the upper corner of the room, where it grows to a full blown grin.

“ Thank you ,” I mouth.

“B-but–” Marcella stutters before she’s cut off.

“Enough,” Lilith grits out. “You’ll be punished for your insolence. Go. ”

I swear I hear Marcella whisper, I’m sorry , before disappearing the way she came.

“That fucking woman’s always putting her nose where it doesn’t belong,” Lilith mutters, turning her attention back to me.

I swallow, knowing I should bite my tongue, but I can’t. Marcella stood up for me, she deserves the same. “She’s a wonderful woman,” I whisper. “She cares for the people here.”

Lilith scoffs, tearing her eyes from mine. They narrow at the wooden table I’d been cleaning when she arrived. Keeping a tight grip on my upper arm, bruising the already irritated flesh and muscles, Lilith leans forward and runs her finger over the surface, right through the dusty spot I missed.

Clicking her tongue, she lets out a sound that’s a mix between a sigh and a chuckle. She takes pleasure in this. Manhandling those of us smaller than her. Beneath her in size or rank.

Just like Idris does.

He’s trained her well.

"Not only are you undeserving of such a lavish life as this one, but it seems you’re also unable to earn your keep, you selfish, greedy brat."

Before I realize what’s happening, Lilith whips me around to face the table. Like a naughty dog who’s peed on the rug, she grips the back of my neck and shoves my face into the dirty spot. A pathetically broken sound slips between my gritted teeth as she smashes my skin into the unforgiving wood.

"How would Mr. Savas feel about this, hmm?" She murmurs, her lips ghosting over my ear. "Knowing his charity case is taking advantage of his kindness by fucking around when she should be working."

She presses against me even harder, and an already painful spot on my hips digs against the harsh table, making me cry out.

"Shut up," she snaps, her voice just shy of an alpha bark.

My body goes limp against my will, and my hands slip to my sides, no longer holding me up in a failed effort to protect myself. Her knees collide with the back of my own, and my feet slip against the smooth marble floors. She chuckles darkly, getting off on exerting power over me.

Like a train wreck, the next moment happens in slow motion. The table teeters under our combined weight, her much larger body blanketing mine as she holds me in a position of utter submission. My face grates against the wood grain as I slide to my knees. In a last-ditch effort to keep the table and myself upright, my hands flail, catching on to the three precious golden orbs next to the massive floral arrangement.

The decor goes tumbling from the off-balance table, and with Lilith at my back, I’m not able to do a damn thing to stop it. It’s not until all three of the glass balls are shattered at my feet, and the vase is toppled over, water and flowers spilled everywhere, that she finally releases me with a satisfied breath.

Without Lilith at my back, I fall roughly to my hands and knees, glass and water penetrating my skin instantly.

Just in time for his voice to fill the already suffocating air.

Fuck.

“Who is making all that goddamned noise?” Idris bellows, his voice ricocheting throughout the massively open space as his heavy feet pound down the stairs, quickly followed by a few other sets. Four, if I’d have to guess.

Sadness and fear consume me, overshadowing any pain from the assault, and I let my head drop, hanging heavily. There’s no point in getting up and pretending nothing happened—the evidence is literally all around me.

I can’t tell them what really happened, not that Idris would give a damn. In fact, I think he’d laugh at my predicament and give Lilith a well-deserved pat on the back for keeping the staff in line.

The boys, however…

They might care.