*WINNER of Best Cliche Breaker for Undiscovered Werewolves*
"Underneath her skin was a wolf; all bite and snarl and nothing else."
The day Saoirse de Rais made her Alpha submit is the day she decided to run.
Traveling from city to city--state to sta...
a/n - Hey guys! I'm incredibly glad to give you guys a new chapter! It's a good one--yes, it's a cliff hanger, but I'm pages into the next chapter, so I promise that you won't have to wait so long! It's getting good! Don't forget to vote and comment if you'd like! Love you bunches <3
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Bo picked up a shift at the Stop & Stock the following day; Saoirse never had the chance to take one, given her godforsaken affliction. No one thought she was capable of maintaining a general store. Bo, rather, was especially eager when the shop owner called him up asking for a favor.
"The shop owner's kid is out sick," Bo mentioned to her on the trip to the shop, smirking the whole time. "Figured I'd lend a helping hand while I'm unemployed."
A low chuckle rose in her throat. She had to wonder if there was ever a second in Bo's life where he stopped to think about spending a few hours to himself. Sure, during a full moon, he had the chance to feel free, but that was different. On full moons, you weren't exactly human; all you thought about was the hunt and running.
Did Bo have any hobbies? Did Bo have guilty pleasures (aside from the occasional bag of potato chips) that he liked to indulge in when he had the chance? It seemed, to Saoirse, that taking this shift at the Stop & Stock was Bo's idea of a good time.
That bothered her.
Bo quickly ransacked the little shelves behind the counter for a MY NAME IS sticker and wrote his own name, happily pressing it to the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. In a ledger beside the till he wrote his name and the time he came in, and quickly held the ledger out to Saoirse.
"I've never worked here," she pointed out.
"The pay sucks but you get free pop when you work."
Quickly, she remembered her debt. The night she left Doherty, she took with her a giant wad of cash that barely lasted a month. She didn't think anything of it now—but to Bo that meant less money to buy what the pack needed. She had no clue how that truly affected the pack, and she was too guilt-ridden to ask. Mulling it over she wrote her name down in her own chicken-scratch handwriting.
"I'll sign the paycheck over to you."
"Not like you need it; you have access to the pack's private bank accounts."
"Where does that money come from?"
Bo shrugged. "I have no clue. I just take out a shit ton and buy whatever I think the pack needs to survive."
"Is that what I have to do?"
"Ellis does most of the record-keeping, so he can help you."
"I'm not good at budgeting and shopping."
"Those look like good boots."
She snorted. "I stole them from a Wal-Mart."
Bo peered down, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. He shouldn't be surprised—she didn't exactly have a steady income to afford a thirty dollar pair of boots. The employees hardly noticed a sickly-thin woman in rags walking out of their store with clean shoes. She ought to send them money for those, too.
