Page 22 of Rescued By the Alien Hit Man

“Almost there,” she said, the door’s lock cycling with an audible click.

We slipped inside the room beyond a vault of data waiting to be plundered. And as we began our work, I couldn’t help but marvel at the woman beside me—her intellect as formidable as any weapon I’d ever wielded.

“Got it,” she whispered triumphantly, her screen alive with incriminating evidence.

“Let’s not celebrate yet,” I said, glancing at the door, aware that each passing second increased our risk of discovery.

“Right,” she said, a flicker of determination steeling her features. “Then let’s make this quick.”

The glow of the console painted her in strokes of light and shadow, casting her in an otherworldly aura. Her focus was a tangible force, and I stood sentinel, watching over her asshe worked to extract the data that could seal Ivor’s fate—and perhaps ensure our survival.

As she downloaded the last file, a sound from the hallway caught my attention. Footsteps—returning. A surge of adrenaline hit me, and I moved without thought, positioning myself between Mia and the impending threat.

“Time to go,” I said, the primal need to protect her eclipsing all else.

“Done,” she said, unplugging her device with haste.

We exited just as the first guard rounded the corner, his shout of alarm slicing through the air. But we were already ghosts, slipping away into the maze of corridors, the data our lifeline, the thrill of escape lending wings to our feet.

CHAPTER 10

CIKARIUS

“Data, Mia. Do you have all of it?”

We didn’t have much time before the guards tracked us down. We needed to get out of there.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Find a hiding spot,” I said. “I’ll track down Ivor.”

Mia’s response was visceral—a look that seared into me, a mixture of revulsion and defiance. I had been an assassin. To her, I was still stained with the blood of countless contracts.

Her lips thinned, the corners set in determination. “I’m safer with you,” she said, her voice low but fierce.

“Understood.” There was no room for argument when survival was at stake. We continued down the corridor lit by the flickering neon lights.

The hum of machinery thrummed through the walls, mingling with the distant echoes of voices lost in the labyrinthine bowels of the base. It was a stark contrast to the wild chorus of Dufair’s jungle, where this had all begun. The metallic tang of the recycled air bit at the back of my throat.

As we edged closer to the main hub, the tension strung tight like the strings of a bow ready to snap. I reached for Mia’s hand,feeling the softness of her skin against the callouses of my own—a silent promise of protection.

“Stay alert,” I whispered, every sense sharpened to the possibility of danger lurking around each corner.

“Always am,” she said, her grip firm, betraying none of the fear that must have been coursing through her.

We moved as one entity, a symbiosis born of necessity, yet underpinned by something deeper, something unspoken that crackled between us like a static charge. Every step measured, every breath synchronized as we closed in on our quarry.

But as we approached the heart of the facility, I knew the true test was upon us. With Ivor close, escape was a dream fraying at the edges, about to be torn apart by the harsh claws of reality.

“Ready?” I asked, pausing before the entrance to the main hub, my hand hovering over the blaster at my side.

“Let’s end this,” Mia said, steel in her tone, her expression resolute.

I pulled a spider-cam from the pouch at my belt, its legs twitched as I set it down. With a swift command, the device skittered forward, disappearing beneath the closed door of Ivor’s command center. The camera feed flickered to life on my wrist display, the grainy images painting a grim tableau.

Ivor Atreus stood, arrogance personified in his tailored suit, posture relaxed yet commanding. Beside him, a shadow detached from the wall—Griff Halden, muscles coiled, eyes sharp as flint. My heart sank like a stone in deep water; Griff was loyalty and lethality, wrapped in one imposing package.

“Damn,” I cursed under my breath, watching the mercenary’s every move through the camera’s eye.

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