Tyrith

A burning sensation danced across my chest. I forced back a cough. The makeup artist seemed oblivious to the excess makeup power swirling in the air. She brushed away at the creases of my nose. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying her torture would end. This entire interview got on my nerves. If it were not for the people who rallied behind me, I would have said ‘fuck it’ a long time ago.

I perked up at the voice of the television producer. A cue to the makeup artist and thank heavens she stepped back. More grateful of the producer, I opened my eyes and forced a smile. 

She observed her handy work. “You have amazing skin. I am almost envious of how good it looks.”

I tried to keep my smile in tact. “Thanks. It must be because I'm an omega.”

This was my second time doing an interview here and she said the same thing the first time.

Her familiar chortle floated between us. “Darling, I am an omega, and I don’t have flawless skin like yours. I guess it must be a supreme dominant thing. The rumors are true, after all.”

I fidgeted in the armchair. “Yeah, it must be.”

Not that I cared, but typical omegas looked different from the rest of the crowd. Everyone had specific features. Omegas were soft and beautiful. Alphas dominated the crowd with their muscular bossy and intolerable personalities. Betas stood at the back, not too soft or too buffed. They nestled on the borderline. Yet, they escaped the world of pheromones that plagued Alphas and Omegas. Lucky bastards.

Dominants perched at the head of society. The crème of the crop. As their name suggested, they dominated everyone else. Society either worshipped or gushed about them. Then there were supreme dominants. Because they were rare, they remained high on the popular chain. Fortunately, I was one of those Supremes. Thanks to that, most hurdles everyone went over never came my way. Even as an orphan.

The producer waved to us, signaling the end of the commercial break. The makeup artist scurried from the set, allowing me more breathing room. The host sipped the water from her coffee mug. The cameraman did a countdown, ticking off his fingers as he went along. A loud three boomed through the room. 

The hostess brightened when the cameras came on. “Welcome back to ‘We Talk’. Today we have a special host, Tyrith Keiser, the new and youngest mayor of Wintercrest. This supreme dominant omega needs no introduction. A phenomenal pediatric surgeon. He won several awards. Those include the Medical Association Award and The People’s Doctor of the Year award. A man labeled as the youngest top Pediatric Surgeon in the world. He won the Most Inspiring Omega Award three times in a row and once for the Top Werewolf Award. A role model to all.”

I crossed my feet at the ankles. This never got old. It was good to hear about all my achievements. All interviews started with a reciting of them. It made sense to get comfortable.

The hostess turned to me. “During his last interview seven years ago, Dr. Keiser made it clear why he became a doctor. Both his mother and sister died from the same disease. He walked the walk and hosted several charity programs to aid the poor. This omega funded children from poor backgrounds. He headed research facilities and cured several diseases that affected omegas. A true success story. You can all get into the details in his book ‘Keiser’s Journey’. Now,” she clapped, “this beautiful man is here to share the finer details of why he shifted to politics.”

Being a doctor had its limitations. Injuries came in different forms. Most of them were not visible. There was so much a doctor could cure. Like the citizens of Wintercrest, I once drowned in my illness. I believed my family would stay the same forever. How naïve I was. Too small to finance my mother’s hospital bills. Too meek to save my father and get justice for his death. Too illiterate to cure my sister. Too late. Too young. Not enough. I needed more. The end of the road should be brighter. I could not stop until Wintercrest became cured of their sickness.

Kids were out there, waiting for me to help them. Mothers needed my aid. Fathers needed saving. I had to help. My job would be easier as the mayor. More money. More hands-on tasks. More lives saved. A brighter path. A larger road. Sparkling future. I couldn’t save my family, but maybe…just maybe the rest of the world was up for grabs. 

I loosened the button on my jacket. “I don’t know about the finer details. For those who don’t know, my father is Markieff Keiser. He was also mayor before he became the Secretary of Health and Werewolf Services. Wintercrest might be the city of Apocrypth, but there are things that we can improve on.”

“The late Dr. Keiser did leave a mark on Wintercrest. Aprocrypth on a whole. The people of the Spiritaria Region. Is it that you plan to follow in his footsteps?”

Following in my father’s footsteps would involve giving up on a lot of things. Things I could not release. Not yet.

“Don’t misunderstand me. I make no plans to stop being a doctor. I will continue to cater for the sick people of Wintercrest. I won’t be able to do it on a day-to-day basis, but I will be in the surgery room from time to time.”

“An understandable statement coming from such an incredible doctor as yourself.” The hostess flashed the camera a smile. “We, the citizens of Wintercrest, appreciate your services. I am sure you have saved countless lives. Recessive Omegas can recover from the plague that tormented them for decades. Betas can be at ease, knowing they too can have smooth fertility success. Our children are safer. Healthier.”

“Thank you. I set out to make Wintercrest a better place. I am still working towards that.”

The hostess nodded. Her eyes glued to the camera. I followed her gaze. The short woman next to one of the cameras grinned at us. That's when it hit me. It was stupid of me to think the hostess would be staring at the camera.

Ah, another interview impromptu?

I shifted in my seat. This was going to be even more annoying than I'd hoped. 

“Your works will never go unnoticed. This includes the hospitals you fund and help develop. Which brings me to my next question. You mentioned you will remain the head doctor of Wintercrest. Yet, the sale of ‘Kara’s Memorial Hospital’ is being finalized.” My gaze snapped to the hostess. She continued in a chirpy tone. “The roars have become louder. People are disappointed by such an event. The same hospital that tended to the poor will be demolished and turned into a mall. What is your input on this?”

My input? What kind of fucking question was that? Why the hell would I sell my sister’s hospital? It was the last thing I had of her. Why…?

I diverted my gaze to the short lady. The same expression lingered on her face. I looked at my assistant, Odessa. Her cellphone held her attention. She would never keep this sale from me. No. Not Odessa.

I turned to the hostess. This was an interview. Whatever I said would be used against me forever. I had to pick my words carefully. “The Kara’s Memorial Hospital plays a significant role in my self-growth. It was the first hospital I bought. The free services there help both children and adults with financial instability. Why would I sell such an asset? If anything, Wintercrest…no, the Spiritara Region needs more hospitals like that one.”

“I agree with you, and I am sure the entire Wintercrest does as well. The Kara’s Memorial Hospital is the first of its kind and has elevated the city. Doctors from around the globe have offered their support. Many parents are relieved their children can get a second chance. Even if they are not financially able to give them the help.”

I blew out a long breath, grateful the hostess ate my response. Still my heart refused to slow down. The interview ended with a few jokes and more minor questions. I shot out of the armchair when the camera flicked off. My feet never stopped moving until I got to the car.

Odessa never waited for my question. She held out her cell phone. “Mr. Bennett is on the next line.”

I snatched the device from her grasp. “What the hell is going on?”

“I watched the interview.” The alpha’s deep voice boomed through the speaker. “I planned to fill you in on everything over dinner tonight. The hospital can no longer finance all the patients.”

What? “We have sponsors. My paycheck goes into that place.”

“I know but it’s not enough. We keep taking in more patients. More difficult sickness. My hands are tied, Tyrith. I’m losing.”

But to turn such a hospital into a mall. Who the hell does that? I knew this fucker was heartless, but not at this level. He was the director for years. Where was his loyalty?

“You can’t sell it, Dave. That…”

“I know. I tried to hold out as long as I could. We have to sell.”

I couldn’t allow that to happen. “Give me a month. I can think of something. One month, that’s all I ask.”

Silence.

“Please, Dave. I need to save this place. I can’t lose…” I pressed my lips together.

A heavy sigh flooded my ears. “Fine. I’ll hold off on the sales. You have one month. No more.”

Relief washed over me. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

“Whatever. You owe me dinner.”

“I’ll send you the details.” His whir followed with a clip to end the call. I eyed Odessa. “A solution?”

“You won’t be able to buy every share within such a small window. You will need help. You will need an investor that is willing to purchase the balance of shares.”

That could work. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

She licked her lips. “I know someone, but you aren’t going to like it.”

“Just spit it out.”

“The Senator, Lucian Benedict.”