Page 35 of Auctioned to the Convicts
“I can’t see you intentionally harming anyone.”
“Despite how I tried to take you earlier?”
He had scared her earlier, but that was his anger talking. This man before her now, the one who looked at Sersie with concern in his eyes, this was the Renzel she wanted to know.
“You have a lot to learn about The Company. The miners don’t get the best protection they need because they’re 4s and 5s. Expendable. The Company’s view, not mine,” he quickly clarified. “Vaughn, Sersie, and I have specialized training, which means they need us. The problem is, our lack of good judgment or poor timing in my case, made us Level 4s. On Narkos, Level 4s who meet their quota earn their way back to Level 3 and off this rock, after they satisfy the ten-year internment. Mess up and years get tacked on to your sentence. But if we mess up badly enough, then we become Level 5s and they own us for life.”
Hannah ran a hand down Sersie’s arm, trying to hide her shudder. She understood what Ren was saying, all too well.
Sersie had passed out, sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall. She pressed the cool cloth against his head. The man’s pained moans tore through her, reminding her of Amelia.
“Can you help me take him back to his room? No one should have to wake up on a bathroom floor, especially after taking Flight.”
Renzel bent down and hoisted Sersie, tossing him over his shoulder as if the man was lightweight, which he wasn’t. Sersie may be younger than the other men in her unit, but he was tall and in great shape. Hannah ran her hand through his hair.
“He didn’t get to rinse his mouth.”
“He’ll be fine,” Ren said as he carried Sersie to the middle bedroom. Vaughn was already in the room, setting up a series of shots on a tray.
“Lift,” Hannah said upon seeing the bottle of clear pink liquid. Ren eased Sersie onto the bed.
“You’re familiar with Lift?” Vaughn asked, sending her a curious look.
She ran her hand along the bottle, without answering.
“Marvelous. As if being stuck in a unit with Sersie isn’t bad enough,” Vaughn mumbled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice higher than usual. She couldn’t help being offended, though it was more for Sersie than herself. Addicts needed understanding, not condemnation. Vaughn was a doctor, but the guy had no sympathy for Sersie.
“He’s an addict. He doesn’t care how his actions affect others. He never has. He does what he wants, when he wants.”
“Have you ever bothered asking him how he got addicted?”
“No need. Why does anyone get addicted? He wanted to get high to have fun or to forget something in his life. Either way, it’s irresponsible, inconsiderate, and—”
“You’re an ass, do you know that?”
Vaughn lifted a brow. “You’re only defending him because you’re an addict.”
Hannah’s hands fisted at her sides. “You know nothing about him or me.”
“I know he runs to drugs every few months. And I’ve worked hard to cover it up.”
That surprised her, that Vaughn had been covering for Sersie. “Why bother covering it up if you hate him so much?”
“Because even though Vance fucked me over, he’s still—” Vaughn stopped talking. He set the medicine down, thrust his hand through his blond hair and took a deep breath. “It’s been a long day. Leave so I can finish up.”
Renzel swore, drawing her attention. “I misjudged. His head hit the wall.”
She ran her fingers through Sersie’s hair. “A bump on the head will be the least of his troubles when he wakes. He’ll be too busy throwing up to notice.”
She wanted to ask Vaughn why he hated Sersie and who Vance was, but the doctor had looked away, shut up completely.
“How’s Ky’Li doing?” she asked, hoping a neutral topic might ease the tension as she replaced the cool cloth on Sersie’s head.
“The nanites are doing their job. He’s lucky he didn’t need surgery. He should be healed enough to start work tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Vaughn.”
