Page 17 of Dark Revolution

“Slow down there, son. You’re acting like you’ve been without water for days.” He fills up another cup but doesn’t set it down. Instead, he turns the glass about, letting the setting suns refract against the precious liquid. “I’ll be hearing that story now.”

Instead of answering, I dig into the bag and pull out a few credits, slamming them on the counter.

“Elex,” he swears under his breath, handing me the cup to scoop up his loot. It’s barely a pittance, but here it must be a treasure. “Where did you get this? Hmm? Who did you kill? Was it the man that wore that uniform?”

“The credits are mine; the uniform is not.” I down the second cup, going a touch slower this time. The cramping starts to ease as the man fills cup after cup. I never doubted that money talks louder than words, but with the way he’s looking at me, I must have paid him more than a year's wages.

“There’s someone you need to see.”

Wiping my mouth, I ease away from the counter. “I don’t need to see anyone. I just want to go to the city proper.”

“Ha.” He turns his head and spits into the dirt. “Good luck with that. They’ll kill you the moment they see you in that uniform.”

Unease trips down my spine at his words. “Why exactly?”

“Come. Meet your new friend.”

He leads me behind some makeshift shelves and pushes on the panel. From what I can see, there’s nothing here to scan his fingerprints. It must be some other rudimentary form of security. After he fiddles with it a few moments, the panel opens up, revealing a darkened passageway. Reaching down, I slide my fingers over my neuron blaster. I should have at least tested it before heading over here.

I can only pray it works if I need it. He glances about before ducking inside, motioning me to follow him. Should I? I look behind as well and spot no one. There’s not even the stench of another person nearby. If it’s a trap, then it will be what’s waiting for me at the end of this passage.

The strange man rests his fingertips along the sides of the wall, and that’s the last thing I can see before the wall closes behind us, engulfing us in darkness. “You’re not easily scared, are you?”His raspy voice grates along my skin, and I clutch my weapon even tighter.

As I open my mouth to ask about the lighting, a soft glow emanates from a point far down the path and makes its way towards us. Thin wires holding ancient bulbs spark up one by one until the entire way is lit.

“Don’t worry. We’re not that barbaric here. Besides, I wouldn’t trust you with fire this close to me. Don’t think I don’t see you edging for that weapon of yours. The only reason I didn’t demand you leave it upstairs is because I want you to feel safe. Come.”

With his weathered hand, he beckons me to follow. The further down we go, the colder it gets, telling me that we’re heading deeper underground than I first realized. The tinkling sound of noise breaks the silence, but I can’t make out what I’m hearing. Dead in front is a large door littered with pockmarks, as if someone once tried to bust it down but couldn’t succeed. I guess I should feel a little easier knowing that I’ll be relatively protected inside. It’s the unknown of what’s behind that door that makes me uneasy.

Bending close, he raps out a convoluted series of knocks that I have no hope of memorizing. If I ever want to come back down here by myself, I'll be screwed. Moments later, the door opens, an ominous creak filling the silence. For a moment, my mind is brought back to moments when I was a little boy, and my brother filled my head with scary stories of things that go bump in the night.

Whenever he described the doors, this is the creak I imagined. My heart squeezes as the enormity of being asleep hits me. It’s not just my mate that’s gone. Every single person in my family is also dead. Even if they lived full lives and had lots of children, I’d never know them. I’d have to do an extensive DNA search just to even see who’s out there. Even then, there’s no guarantee I’d find anyone.

Gripping the earthen walls, I sit with my feelings for a moment, letting them wash over me. I can’t grieve anymore. That will do nothing but show weakness. Perhaps once I figure out this new land, I can give myself a day or two to bury them in my heart and mind and mourn the life I’ll never have again.

Shaking my head, I force my brain back into the game. I can’t face this new unknown with a heavy heart. I need all my wits about me. There’s something about this man that I don’t like. I can’t completely put my finger on it, but I don’t trust him. The door swings inward, revealing what appears to be a meeting in progress.

Though no one is wearing their designations, it’s pretty obvious that it’s a mixture of betas and Alphas, with the betas outnumbering them three to one. Swallowing, I ease myself into the room, looking over all the people in it. They’re all staring at me, their eyes growing wide as they take in my uniform.

What the hell happened in these last one hundred years? This uniform used to signal power and authority, but now it seems like it’s inspiring fear and hatred. The older man precedes me further into the room and walks over to an Alpha sitting at the head of a long table. They converse for a moment, but it’s low enough that I can’t hear.

Instead, I focus on the others. Aggression taints the air, soiling every breath I take. Many reach down to their sides, fingers sliding along what I can only assume are weapons. They look nothing like what I’m used to wielding. After several minutes, the Alpha nods and walks over to me, grin widening his face.

“I would like to welcome you to our little enclave. Sorry about the others. We don’t like strangers much. Shall we adjourn to my office?” Lines crinkle around his eyes as he talks, a sure indicator that this man once laughed a lot. His dark hair is sprinkled with gray but nevertheless holds himself like an Alpha of great strength. “Come. I don’t bite.”

A few smatterings of laughter break up the tension, and I look out into the crowd, watching as their shoulders begin to drop and they return to their previous conversations. I guess since their leader doesn’t see me as a threat, they’re more inclined to not be as hostile. The “office,” as he calls it, is barely more than a few sheets thrown over some wood to give this section a modicum of privacy.

If anyone even tried to listen, it wouldn't be hard to eavesdrop on whatever was going on in there. Perhaps it’s a safety measure? With all these loyal subjects, someone would be inclined to attack if anything went sideways. He pulls open the flap and leads me inside, pausing a moment to light a few gas lamps.

“I’ve been told you’re in possession of massive quantities of illegal tender.” I clutch my bag closer, staring him down. Instead of rising to the challenge, he sits in a weathered leather chair, chuckling as he pulls a cigar out from a box. “Smoke?” I shake my head, and he shrugs before motioning to a seat in front of him.

He lights the end and takes several puffs, savoring as he inhales. The woodsy, musky scent fills my lungs, bringing back memories I need to forget. It smells like cold nights by the fire with my father. He did always love his cigars. They were illegal then too, which is probably why this Alpha is smoking down here.

It was a leisurely pastime that had no place in an Alpha’s life, much less a Guardian Alpha. But that wouldn't stop my father. We always knew when it was cigar night. The house would be boarded up from the inside by my mother well before Father got off work. She would lay out his slippers, start the fire, then hand him his contraband the moment he sat down.

We only saw him a few times every other week, and each time he came home, it started with a smoke. I had almost forgotten those moments. A crackling fire, the sultry notes of the cigar, stories that made shivers go up and down my spine. We were happy then, before puberty, before hormones made the different dynamics stupid.

I shake my head to clear the memories away. Now is not the time to be sappy. “Define massive.”