Sold to Bastard Alpha after My Divorce!-Chapter 73
Aria’s POV
The community center was a dead end.
I went there, just like the kind stranger suggested. Sat through an hour-long orientation about "job readiness" and "professional development." Filled out forms. Answered questions. Smiled until my face hurt.
They told me to come back in two weeks. Two weeks for the next "workshop session."
So I kept looking. Kept walking. Kept knocking on doors that slammed in my face.
And then, on day twenty-six of my new human life, I found it.
"Quick Stop Mart."
The sign was faded. Half the letters were missing. The building sat at the edge of what could only be described as the worst part of town. Bars on the windows. Graffiti on the walls. The kind of place where people locked their car doors while driving past.
But there was a "Help Wanted" sign in the window.
I pushed through the door.
The smell hit me first. Cheap cleaning products trying to mask something sour underneath. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering every few seconds. The shelves were half-empty, stocked with off-brand everything.
A man stood behind the counter. Forties, maybe. Balding. Gut hanging over his belt. He was watching a small TV mounted in the corner, some sports game I didn’t recognize.
He didn’t look up when I walked in.
"Excuse me?" I approached the counter. "I saw your sign. About the job?"
His eyes finally moved. Traveled over me slowly. Up and down. Lingering in places that made my skin crawl.
"You got experience?"
"Yes. Five years as a waitress."
"This ain’t waitressing." He snorted. "This is real work. Stocking shelves. Running the register. Cleaning toilets when some junkie pukes all over them."
"I can do all of that."
He leaned back. Crossed his arms. Still staring at me with that look. The one that made me want to take a shower.
"Pay’s minimum wage. Eight hours a day, six days a week. No benefits. No sick days. You miss a shift, you’re fired. Got it?"
Minimum wage. No benefits. In a neighborhood that probably had a shooting every other week.
But it was a job.
"I got it."
He grunted. "When can you start?"
"Today."
Something flickered in his eyes. Interest. Or maybe just surprise that anyone would be this desperate.
"Alright." He grabbed a stained apron from under the counter. Threw it at me. "Put this on. There’s a shipment in the back that needs unloading. Get to it."
No interview. No paperwork. No questions about references or background checks.
In the human world’s dirtiest corner, desperation was qualification enough.
---
The first week was hell.
My body wasn’t built for this anymore. Without Artemis, I was just... human. Weak. Fragile. My muscles screamed after every shift. My back ached from lifting boxes. My feet swelled so badly I could barely fit them into my shoes by the end of the day.
And the exhaustion. God, the exhaustion.
Being pregnant made everything ten times harder. The morning sickness hit at random times sometimes morning, sometimes afternoon, sometimes in the middle of hauling a crate of canned beans. I’d have to run to the back, hand clamped over my mouth, and pray I made it to the bathroom in time.
Gary, my boss if you could call him that noticed immediately.
"The hell’s wrong with you?" He cornered me on day three, his breath reeking of cigarettes and stale coffee. "You sick or something?"
"Just a stomach bug." The lie came easily now. "It’s passing."
"Better be passing fast." He jabbed a finger at my chest. Too close. Always too close. "I didn’t hire you to spend half your shift in the bathroom."
"I’m sorry. It won’t happen again."
"Damn right it won’t."
He walked away. I exhaled slowly.
One day at a time. That’s how I’d survive this.
The customers were another nightmare.
Most of them were fine. Just regular people buying milk and bread and trying to get through their day. Some were kind. Some didn’t even look at me.
But some...
"Hey, sweetheart."
I looked up from restocking the shelves. A man stood at the end of the aisle. Thirties. Dirty clothes. Eyes that made my stomach turn.
"Can I help you find something?" I kept my voice professional. Distant.
"Maybe." He walked closer. Too close. "What time you get off?"
"I’m working."
"I can see that." His eyes dropped to my body. "You got a boyfriend?"
"I’m not interested."
"Didn’t ask if you were interested." He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Asked if you had a boyfriend."
My heart was pounding now. That familiar fear the one I’d lived with my whole life as an Omega came rushing back. But I didn’t have Artemis to protect me anymore. Didn’t have wolf strength or claws or teeth.
I was just a woman alone with a predator.
"Please leave me alone."
"Or what?" He laughed. "You gonna call the cops? You know how long it takes them to get to this neighborhood?"
I backed up. Hit the shelf behind me.
"Hey!" Gary’s voice cut through the tension. "You buying something or not?"
The man looked toward the front of the store. Then back at me. His smile turned ugly.
"Maybe next time."
He walked away.
I stood there. Shaking. My hands gripping the shelf so hard my knuckles went white.
Gary appeared at the end of the aisle. "What the hell was that about?"
"Nothing." My voice trembled. "He was just--"
"Whatever. I don’t pay you to stand around chatting. Get back to work."
He left without another word.
