Page 2 of Rescued By the Alien Hit Man

A slaver lunged for me, eyes alight with malice, but the mysterious savior intercepted, dispatching my would-be captor with a swift, almost casual efficiency. His movements were a blur, a symphony of violence performed with the precision of a master.

“Who are you?” I asked, clutching at the dirt, trying to find my bearings amid the bedlam.

“Cikarius Vex,” he said, without looking at me, his attention fixed on the remaining threats.

Then, as he surveyed the area for any lingering dangers, he stooped beside one of the fallen slavers. The moon’s bioluminescent glow painted his violet skin in surreal shades. His hand emerged, clutching an object that he promptly shoved into a side pocket of his leather pants.

“Come,” Cikarius said once the immediate danger had passed. “We have to get out of here now.”

“Amund.” I said, glancing at the still form of my colleague. A part of me wanted to run to him, to see if there was any hope, but deep down, I knew the truth.

Cikarius shook his head. “He’s gone.” His gaze scanned the area for more threats. “We have to move. Now.”

“I need to gather all that I can.” I pointed at the laptop, the samples, the equipment that belonged to my employer. Employee safety was their top priority, that’s why Amund and I had guards with us, but the samples plus my research would be worth a million credits.

He gave a curt nod, surveying the area for threats. I rushed around, gathering everything I could fit in the backpack, hoping it wouldn’t slow me down too much. Cikarius was decidedly more fit than I was. A trek through the jungle wouldn’t even raise his heartbeat, I guessed.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded, tears pooling in my eyes when I glanced over at Amund’s prone form on the jungle floor.

Cikarius’s hand extended toward me, an unspoken promise of protection. I hesitated only for a second—survival was a powerful motivator. With Amund gone and our guards likely dead, Cikarius was my lifeline in this neon nightmare.

I placed my trembling hand in his, feeling the strength in his grip. As we ran, I dared to glance back at the carnage. And though I knew I should feel nothing but fear, something else fluttered within me—an inexplicable sense of connection to this enigmatic stranger who had become my guardian in the dark.

We weaved through luminescent underbrush, the eerie glow of Dufair’s flora casting our shadows in a haunting dance against the dense foliage. Cikarius moved with an animal grace that belied his imposing frame, every muscle and sinew orchestrated to perfection. My breath came in ragged gasps, partly from exertion, partly from something far more primal as I watched the play of muscles under Cikarius’s form fitting clothing.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as we paused beneath the shelter of an overhanging fern, its fronds shimmering like a chandelier of soft green light.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, his gaze scanning the jungle perimeter, those yellow eyes piercing through the darkness and, it seemed, right into my very soul.

He pulled out the small tablet he’d taken from the slaver and his body tensed—a reaction so subtle, yet so at odds with his previous composure that my heart skipped a beat. What could unsettle such a man? He turned the object over in his hands, his expression unreadable. I swallowed the fear rising in my throat and stepped closer, driven by a mix of dread and curiosity.

“Is something wrong?” My voice was steady, but inside, I was anything but.

He didn’t reply immediately, his focus fixed on whatever he’d found. The silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the distant cry of some nocturnal predator.

I studied him. A muscle in his jaw clenched. His hands clutched the tablet. A war waged in his eyes, and I wondered if he would reveal what troubled him. His gaze finally met mine,the weight of concern in his eyes evident. Whatever revelation awaited me, our troubles were far from over.

He extended his hand, revealing the tablet, an image illuminated on its cracked screen. It was me—my photo, unmistakably captured in the sterile light of the Deiridh Airm Solutions research lab on Alfataken Station. My breath hitched, and an icy shiver ran down my spine.

Alfataken Station had security issues. What massive space station didn’t? But security at Deiridh Airm Solutions was beyond tight. Especially the research lab. How had someone infiltrated the lab and taken my picture?

“What does this mean?” I asked, though my voice quivered like a leaf in a storm.

Cikarius’s nod directed my gaze to the path we’d taken away from the lifeless form of Amund, my colleague and friend, now just a memory against the vibrant backdrop of Dufair’s flora. “This was no random attack on scientists. You were the target.”

Shock rippled through me, followed by a wave of nausea, freezing me in place. A target? But why? I had always been amicable, never one to stir up trouble or incite animosity among my peers.

“Everyone likes me,” I said, the words sounding feeble even to my own ears.

“Obviously someone doesn’t. Hiring slavers isn’t cheap or easy. Whoever did this has resources and a vendetta,” he said. “Did you piss anyone off lately?”

“No,” I replied, a sense of helplessness creeping in. “I can’t think of anyone who would?—”

He looked me over slowly, his yellow eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip. He examined me from head to toe, and warmth bloomed beneath my skin where his gaze lingered. It was a look that stripped away the layers, seeing beyond the scientist, the botanist…seeing me. Heatspread through me, igniting every nerve ending. Something about the way he looked at me—predatory, assessing—made my pulse quicken.

“Turn anyone down lately?” he asked, his voice low, almost intimate.

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