Page 24 of Rescued By the Alien Hit Man

She rose slowly, her silhouette framed by the pulsating screens behind her. Her green eyes locked onto Griff’s, an unspoken plea within them.

“I’m a botanist working for Ivor’s competition,” she said, her voice steady despite the situation.

“Enough.” Ivor’s attempt at maintaining an air of control was slipping as he glanced nervously between us. “This is preposterous. Cikarius has always been a loose cannon. Are we really going to believe the word of a genetically engineered weapon who’s abandoned his own kind?”

“Is that so?” My response was cool, unflinching. I stepped closer, the data-slate in hand, presenting cold, hard facts that left no room for doubt. “The timestamps don’t lie, Ivor. Your transactions coincide perfectly with cyber attacks on her employer’s computers. Mia’s only crime was being too good at her job.”

Griff shifted, the weight of the truth settling onto his shoulders. He glanced from Ivor to Mia, then back to me. The standoff teetered on the brink—the next move would tip the scales.

“Think about it, Griff. You’ve been played.” The words hung in the air, a final testament to Ivor’s deceit.

The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor, mirroring the darkness that had settled over us. In the corner of the room, the soft hum of machinery underscored the silence that followed.

“Let’s end this,” I said, a silent prayer that Griff would make the right choice.

The tension was a live wire, ready to ignite. Every sense was heightened—the metallic taste of anticipation on my tongue, the sound of distant footsteps echoing like a countdown, the smell of fear mingling with determination.

“Griff?” Ivor’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with the poison of betrayal.

We waited, breaths held, as the moment stretched into infinity.

Griff’s eyes, hard as the steel of his blade, met mine. The mercenary who had faced down death without flinching now stood at a crossroads, his allegiance tested. His jaw clenched; the decision written in the tightening of his fists.

“Your move, Griff,” Ivor said, voice smooth as silk and just as suffocating.

The mercenary’s gaze flickered to Mia, her presence a silent accusation, a beacon of truth amidst the murk of lies. He took a step back, not in surrender but in defiance, aligning himself beside me without uttering a word.

“Damn you,” Ivor spat, the façade crumbling. He tapped his wrist device with a fury that betrayed his composure.

I braced myself, every muscle tensed for what was to come. The door burst open behind Ivor, and a squadron of mercenaries poured into the room like a flood of dark intent.

“Circle up!” I said, pulling Mia close. My hand found the grip of my weapon with practiced ease.

Griff moved like a shadow, fluid and deadly, positioning himself back-to-back with me. The air crackled with theelectricity of impending combat, the weight of destiny pressing down upon us.

“Take them!” Ivor commanded, his voice slicing through the tension.

Silent understanding passed between Griff and me. We were warriors forged in different fires, now tempered by a common cause. The mercenaries advanced, a closing ring of malice.

“Stay behind me,” I whispered to Mia, hoping she could feel the promise in my words. Her soft exhale brushed against my neck, a whisper of trust amidst the chaos.

The first assailant lunged, a blur of motion aimed at my heart. I sidestepped, turning his momentum against him, my hand striking with lethal precision. He crumpled to the ground, a silent testament to my resolve.

“Watch out!” Griff’s warning came just in time, his arm knocking aside an attack meant for my side.

We moved as one, a dance of destruction under the cold glow of florescent lights. Sweat beaded on my brow. The scent of metal and fear filled the air, and the sounds of combat—the clash of weapons, the thud of bodies—became a symphony of survival.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through me as I caught the glint of a blade swinging towards my face. With a swift pivot, I caught the wrist of the mercenary, turning the momentum to send him sprawling. His weapon clattered across the floor, slipping into the darkness.

“Go, Mia! Now!” My voice was a command, an anchor in the storm of violence swirling around us. I needed her safe, needed her brilliance shielded from the brutality that was my world.

Out of the corner of my eye, through a haze of exertion, I saw her silhouette darting toward the console. Her fingertips darted from key to key, a dance of urgency and intelligence. The screen flickered, data streaming through the ether to her boss, her salvation—and mine—within reach.

Another attacker charged, his snarl lost in the cacophony. I met him head-on, my fist connecting with a satisfying crunch against his jaw. He staggered, surprise etching his features before he collapsed.

“Good work,” Griff said beside me, taking down another assailant with calculated ferocity. Despite the chaos, a part of me appreciated the irony—Griff, once a potential enemy, was now an ally by choice.

The room echoed with the clash of combat, every strike a note in our desperate symphony. I fought not just for survival but for a future that, until recently, I hadn’t dared to envision—one where Mia was more than just a mission, more than just a target. She was the unexpected variable that had recalculated my entire existence.

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