Page 7 of Dark Revolution

“I’ll manage.”

Shaking his head, he rubs his hand across his weathered jaw. “Can’t let you go on by yourself this late. I’d never hear the end of it from my wife. Tell you what. Two-fifty like we agreed, but only for half. Come back in a few days, and I’ll give you the rest at another two-fifty.”

It surprises me that a man such as him still worries about what his wife thinks about his actions. It’s not like he’s the most magnanimous of men. Taking the precious pills from him and sliding them into my oversized pockets, I cover the flap, concealing it in the folds of my outfit. It would mean I’ll have to pick up another shift at the Echelon-sanctioned brothels, but it will be worth it. We can last for a few days.

I hand him the credits, relief flooding my system. Nodding my thanks, I ease out into the wild nothingness. The first sun is already down below the horizon - just two more to go. If I hurry, I can make it back in time for dinner. Karis would like that. Tears prick my eyes as I gather my clothes tighter about my body despite the heat. I’ve barely had time for Karis, but what else can I do? I have to work; I have to make these clandestine trips so that she’ll be safe.

Suppressing a shudder as I step past the carnage from earlier, the eyes continue to stare up at me. For a moment, it’s Karis’ face I see instead of the nameless omega. This is why I work. This is why I sacrifice myself to come into this forbidden zone. I can’t have either of us end up at the hands of an Alpha. Masking as a beta, we’re safe. Alphas won’t want us. With omegas being less plentiful, some betas end up as sex toys for them, but they don’t last long.

No one can have even a chance at surviving an Alpha except an omega, but even then, if the stories are true, even they don’t last that long either - just marginally more than a beta. If the violence I saw today from feral betas is even half of what an Alpha can unleash, I’ll take my chance with the betas.

Off in the distance, the twinkling lights of the shuttle station beckon me; it’s my last stop before freedom. I just have to make it there. Strange noises assault my ear, but I ignore them and plow forward. If I time things right, I won’t have to wait long for the next ride. At least at the station, there will be other people to protect me against the likes of the Ferals.

The wind kicks up, slamming into me as I put one foot in front of the other. I’m already weak and tired from the adrenaline used to even come here, but stopping is not an option. Though I’ve already taken my suppressant for the day, there’s still a chance that my scent can alert others. Even if I’m not as tasty as an omega, I’m not stupid enough to think that a Feral will leave me alone simply because of an altered scent pattern.

As I reach the glass doors, I let out a breath and slip through. This is still part of the Dead Lands, and as such, no Guardian Alphas should be down here, but it’s so much safer than the outside. Mercenaries set up camp along various vantage points, weapons held in front of them as a warning to any who would cause trouble. I’m not sure why they do it; it’s not like the government is sanctioning any of this.

I wonder if they’re paid assassins. No doubt the Dead Lands have enough shady dealers that they can afford the maintenance of this ancient form of transportation and pay others to keep them safe.

Glancing back behind me, I can just make out the jutting brick of the building housing The Purveyor and wonder if the mercenaries saw the carnage that went down. Knowing their type, they probably helped themselves while watching the show. Shaking my head, I dispel the acrid thoughts as they burn me from the inside out. I shouldn’t think such evil things about the men protecting me right now.

I just can’t help but think if it had been me out there. Would they have helped? Probably not. I’m nothing to the likes of them. Though in a roundabout way, I pay their salary, they don't answer to me. If someone attacked me inside the transportation station, I’d like to think they’d intervene, but since I identify as a beta, who would even care? We are so plentiful that a massive annihilation would only get rid of a portion of us.

In that way, omegas do have it better. They are sacred, protected, cared for, even if it does mean having to suffer the whims of an Alpha. No. Even the threat of mass genocide is better than having to submit to the likes of them. I’ve seen them, served them long enough to know there is no good Alpha.

Sitting down on an empty bench, I worry the edges of my cloak as I wait for the next unit to arrive. With the Dead Lands being unsanctioned, there’s no guarantee when the next one will show up. Though back in the day, I’m sure they worked on a tight schedule, now, there’s no one really to cater to. They just show up when someone boards. With how late it’s getting, there’s possibly a chance another one won’t even show up.

I glance over at the mercenary closest to me, debating asking him if he knows when the next transport is scheduled to arrive when the blare of a horn pierces my ears, setting my body to quaking. With a loud grind and puff of air, the car stops in front of me. White paint peels from its metal body, revealing the old rust spots and areas of decay.

Like everything else in the Dead Lands, it hasn’t escaped the touch of time. With a shudder, the door opens, and I step inside the dimly-lit interior. It looks like I’ll be the only one going back this time. Relief washes over me as I pick a seat as far away from the driver as possible. With shuttles like these, I know the driver doesn’t have to do anything. The vehicle itself is on wheels. The only reason there needs to be a driver is so it stops at the appropriate places.

For half a moment, I debate asking if one of the mercenaries could ride with me, but there’s no guarantee that would make me any safer. Who knows what would happen in a confine like this? It’s better this way. Keeping my eyes firmly on the thin plate of glass between us, I settle into the uncomfortable chair as we wait for any more passengers. Minutes tick by like hours as the shuttle door remains agape. I know the fear is irrational, but knowing the door is open, that anyone can just come barging in, has me sinking deeper into my chair, as if to possibly become invisible.

The countdown alarm sounds, and I begin breathing in time with the numbers. Ten. Nine. Eight. I can do this. Seven. Six. Almost there. Five. Four. Three. Two. Just as the one is about to sound, a cloaked figure ducks in, nearly missing the door as it descends down, sealing us both inside.

The man is huge, towering over me by at least a foot or two. An Alpha. I’m sure of it. Only Alphas have the uncanny ability to suck the air out of the room and leave you breathless like that. If he notes my squirming, he makes no mention of it. Instead of speaking a word to me, he slides over to an empty seat opposite mine and plops down into it, sending a rattling shudder through the cab.

His hat is dipped low over his forehead, so I can’t even get a good glimpse at his face. Perhaps that’s for the best. The fingers of my right hand curl up around the cuff of my sleeve, holding it firmly in place. The last thing I need is for an Alpha, rogue or otherwise, to see my designation. If he thinks I belong here, maybe he’ll leave me alone.

I so desperately want to pull out my datacom so I can message Karis, but I don’t dare move. Betas of my supposed station wouldn’t have access to something so valuable. It would be even more of a giveaway than my insignia. Instead, I force my body tighter against the unyielding chair and bundle myself in my cloak. Sweat pours down my neck and slides against my skin.

Closing my eyes, I pray to Ilaria that it carries no taint of the omega I’m trying to hide. When I open them again, the strange man stares at me, his golden eyes glittering in the dingy light. Most definitely an Alpha. I watch, terror flowing through me, as his nose lifts in the air. He’s scenting me. His nostrils quiver with the deep inhale - he isn’t even trying to hide it.

Shame floods my body as his lips slash up into a smile. He couldn’t have smelled the hidden omega. He would have been all over me if that were the case. Problem is, he still likes what he smells. My stomach clenches as he shifts in his seat. Is he going to attack me now?

I slip my hands out of my cloak and grip the edge of the seat, bracing for the violence I know is about to come, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he tips his hat down and rests his chin on his chest. Soon, deep snores fill the cramped space. My heart pounds in my chest, pulsing through the delicate veins of my ears until my entire head is throbbing.

What if it’s all a ruse? What if he’s biding his time until he lashes out against me? That’s what Alphas do, right? They attack without mercy. The scenes from earlier come crashing through, and bile rises up in my throat. Not just Alphas. It seems like most men on Stanlion are bent towards violence. At this rate, no one is really safe. The only thing I can do is find a good beta match for Karis and me and hope it’s enough.

Sliding my glance over to the front, I watch the driver as he sits at the wheel, boredom lacing his posturing. The only sounds coming from his direction are the flips of paper as he licks his thumb and pulls back another page. The Alpha in front of me is still asleep, but I still don’t dare move. He’s already scented me once; I don’t need any shift to give away more than what he thinks he knows.

Glancing up, I watch the digits as they slowly change. The route we’re on blinks a dull red, and we are almost at our destination. I grip the sides of my chair until my hands ache with the effort, but I keep still, only moving my head and eyes as needed. Before much longer, the car vibrates as the grinding squeal of metal on metal reaches my ears.

Both the Alpha and I lurch to the side as it finally comes to a halt. I want nothing more than to flee the confines of this shuttle, but what do I do with the Alpha? If I go first, he might follow me home. If I go second, there’s no guarantee he’ll let me off. What happens then? Will the driver just go on, looping around the circle until we’re back to the Dead Lands where he can have his way with me?

Shaking my head, I force those thoughts out of my brain. I can’t let my fear taint every interaction with Alphas, or all men for that matter. Besides, the more I work myself up, the more I’m sure he can smell my fear. Even now, it’s a sour note, lightly perfuming the air. Taking deep breaths, I force gulps of air into my lungs as I count backward from twenty.

I don’t move until my heart resumes a normal cadence, nothing that would give away my anxiety. The Alpha tips back his hat and looks around before motioning between the door and me.