Page 24 of Sawyer

The other alpha, Sin, wastes no time and knees Roger in the back of his kneecaps. Only he doesn’t move.

“Would you look at that?” He tries again, but his strikes resemble flapping his hands at an annoying fly, and in this case, Sin is the fly. “Nothing. Like a big stone giant.”

“Are you fucking stoned?” Rumor snarls while striking Roger’s neck.

Knowing what’s coming doesn’t change how I feel when it happens. Roger grabs Rumor’s wrist and yanks him close, slamming his fist into his gut.

I knew what was going to happen because I tried that move.

Shutting my eyes, I try to block out the sounds of the two men fighting, but nothing can obscure the trauma I experienced at his hands.

Flashes of the night I tried to get out of the slums a year into my job here dance behind my eyes. I’d packed up all my stuff, hugged the girls goodbye, then taken off with my earnings that night—one thousand in hard-earned cash.

I didn’t get to the corner.

Rain pelted me from a stormy sky.

I remember that moment as clear as day, even though it was in the early hours of the morning and dark as hell. As I rounded the corner, Roger was there, and I knew there was only one way I’d ever leave here.

Blackmail. Gunshots echo in the dressing room, startling me out of my memories. The scream that leaves my soul is partly from the horror I felt at Roger’s fists and the sound of the gun.

I don’t even know I’m crying until the splashes of hot, wet tears slip down my face.

“Hey, baby girl, look at me. Look at me.” Rumor’s soothing voice rolls over my senses, but it’s a little too late.

Panic swells and burns off more of that precious stimulant, causing me to feel too much too fucking fast. I clench my eyes tight because if I can’t see it, then it doesn’t happen.

This world is dark, far darker than I want, but it’s my world, the one I live in. It’s filled with death and blood and back-alley deals gone wrong.

“Move,” the other voice says, and Rumor’s hands fall away. “Sawyer,” he barks at me, and I clench my eyes shut tighter, my entire body trembling. “Look at me.”

Unable to avoid his bark, my eyes fly open.

“Good girl,” this strange alpha purrs. “Breathe with me.” He softens his voice and presses a hand to my chest.

Surprised, I blubber, “What?”

“Breathe with me.” He takes an exaggerated breath and blows it in my face. Sour whiskey spills over my senses, but that isn’t his scent.

Vetiver rolls over me, smoky and earthy, calming me as much as his dramatic breaths. It’s hidden behind the garbage scent clinging to him and the bitter smell of vomit. His emerald eyes remind me of how the light hits a predator’s eyes at night, looking dangerous and unpredictable to all those who see one, yet in his head, every move is calculated and met with purpose.

“That’s right, breathe.” Again, he takes in a deep breath, his chest rumbling. “Close your eyes and breathe.”

Listening, I allow myself to follow these unknown alpha’s instructions, letting his essence roll through me like an elixir, until I realize that the rumbling deepens.

Is he purring?

Don’t think about it, Sawyer. I hold on to his forearms, allowing that rumbling purr to calm me and steal away all the anxiety that spiked through me a moment ago. Second by second, he somehow drags me back to a level mind. I want to think it’s impossible, but between his scent and purr, my entire body sags, and I open my eyes.

I’m okay until I see the splash of blood on his cheek. I’m no stranger to blood. I’ve reported on death a hundred times. Hell, I did just that earlier.

It’s what he did that gets to me.

“You killed him?” My pulse spikes again, threatening to send me into cardiac arrest.

“Now, princess,” he drawls, “I just got you good and calmed, and you had to remind me that I’m going to get my ass chewed out by my boss.” He tsks at me as though this is a joke.

“You killed him,” I repeat.

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