Page 4 of Sawyer

I turn away and rush out of the dimly lit hallway. I don’t give myself a moment to look in the living room at the dealer sitting in the corner in his recliner. If I closed my eyes, I’d be able to see his grimy face and the interest that’s ever present on his lecherous features.

If it weren’t for the fact that he’s the only stimulant dealer in Central City, I’d never return to this hovel. I made the mistake of turning to him once after taking the tonic, but never again.

Shuddering, I rush out of the townhouse and shake off the memories.

The chilly afternoon air burns my lungs. Spring is fast approaching, and I, for one, am thankful. The blooming flowers and the buds on the trees make it my favorite time of year, one that represents renewal, yet there are still nights when frost whispers across the grass and winter holds on for just a little longer.

A quick glance at my watch tells me I only have a few minutes to get my ass back to work before I get fired. Not that David would ever fire me. He is too soft for that. He would chastise me and maybe give the next top story to Brittany in retaliation, which is fine.

I’ve been working on something all on my own.

The gamma upstairs wasn’t wrong. I do work for Central Daily as an investigative reporter, and my boss splashed my face all across the city, stating that I’m lovable and I’d bring in more readers.

Some gammas love me for pushing against my designation, and some hate me. Some are happy with their lives, content to live a life of servitude. That isn’t the life I wanted, though, and in order to avoid it, I make monthly trips to the slums.

I step in a puddle as I rush down the sidewalk, away from the townhouse full of my hidden secrets and toward the nearest bus station.

I didn’t drive here, nor did I bring my phone.

A gust of smoke billows from a storm grate as I hurry past, the scent of urine and feces wafting to me. Wrinkling my nose, I hold my breath and turn the corner.

This street is full of the worst of the worst. I’ve had to come here several times and report on stabbings or shootings. Blood stains the sidewalks, and two-by-fours keep the windows boarded up.

Music spills out from a strip club, Haven, across the street, and I duck my head, hiding my face.

Years ago, I walked out on the owner, Tomi, and never returned. Hey, we all have to start somewhere, and as a gamma, I didn’t get a free ride for education. Taking my clothes off paid my bills better than Central Daily does. I won’t go back to Tomi, though, even if he swears I will.

Pride keeps me on a budget, even though I know I can pull in twice my weekly salary at Central Daily in one night at Haven.

I slip down another street, rushing past the empty storefronts and strip clubs, the pimps just waking up for the day, and their gammas who slept on the sidewalk all damn night. Ahead, a bus rumbles down the street, and I dart toward it just as it slows.

I nearly stumble as I scramble up the steps and swipe my card. Once I’m sitting in the broken vinyl seat, I finally realize I’m still clutching the empty tonic vial in my left hand. A small drop of pink swirls in the bottom.

I stuff the damn thing in my coat pocket and glance around, hoping no one saw, but not a single person is paying attention to me. That is the magic of the slums. Keep to yourself, and everyone else will offer you the same respect.

It’s those who have money and power, the ones who have everything yet want to steal what little you have just so they can dance on your ashes, who don’t offer you respect.

Blowing out a shuddering breath, I wipe my sweaty hands on my dress pants and mentally prepare myself to return to work. I can already hear the sounds of the newsroom, and it fills me with excitement, even though just a few short hours ago, those same sounds triggered panic.

Which is why I am taking an extended lunch.

The stimulants don’t last as long as they did in the past, and I have to head to the slums more often than I did a year ago.

I will do whatever is necessary to keep my position in the newsroom, even if that means diving back into my past and the slums of Central City.

The sign for Central Daily, blinging with neon blue lights, comes into view, while several news crews pull up to the bus stop just out front.

What the fuck did I miss?

The bus barely stops before I rush down the steps and head toward the front doors, where my cameraman Freddy rushes out.

“There you are.” He sighs in relief. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Handing me my phone, he looks me over from head to toe, assessing me. He had long ago speculated about where I run to on my long lunches, but I never told him.

As a beta, he wouldn’t understand. He’s a null, a norm, so he doesn’t feel like I do or bend as I do. Betas don’t fall prey to an alpha or a delta. Hell, there have been times when he’s spoken to me in ways that made me want to cower away from him. Even he holds power over me.

Just not today, not with the stimulant strong in my system.

“Thanks.” I power up my phone and slip it into my pocket. “What did I miss?”

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