Page 17 of Rescued By the Alien Hit Man

But he was wrong.

“Understood,” I said, my voice a guttural affirmation of my path. It was a lie cloaked in the garb of truth, a deception born of necessity.

Mia’s body quivered behind me, a bowstring drawn taut with dread. She thought she knew what came next—that her end was written in the stars above Talamhmar. But stars, much like fate, were not as fixed as they seemed.

“Then do it,” Varek whispered, each word a silken thread weaving the web of my supposed destiny. “The mission comes first.”

In the stillness, I turned towards Mia, my movements deliberate, betraying none of the storm that raged beneath my calm exterior. Every step was a note in the symphony of our entwined lives, a crescendo building towards an unknown finale.

I turned back to Varek.

Varek’s smile stretched across his face, a predator baring its fangs, assured of the meal to come. He saw only what he wanted to see: the last act of a play he thought he directed.

And as the scent of fear and determination mingled in the air, I made my choice. “You’re right. The mission does come first.”

CHAPTER 8

MIA

Istood there, my heart racing with the kind of betrayal that seeps into your bones. “How can you say that?” I said, the words a thorn in my throat. Across the room, Varek’s laughter skittered across my skin like ice, his mocking tones echoing off the cold metal walls of the lab. I moved to stand beside Cikarius, heat searing my cheeks as I looked him in the eyes.

“Because the mission always comes first.” The voice, once warm and protective, now felt as alien to me as the jungle moon’s glowing flora. Cikarius, the man who’d saved me from slavers, whose embrace had promised safety, was just another hit man. My mind reeled, but survival instincts kicked in—I needed a weapon, an escape, anything. But Varek was blocking the door, his slim figure a barrier as insurmountable as Alfataken station’s hull.

Before I could move, Cikarius’s muscular arms ensnared me, trapping me with ease. He positioned himself between me and Varek again, a living shield with a vice-like grip. Confusion mingled with the panic pounding through my veins, each heartbeat screaming for me to flee.

In the background, Varek’s chuckle unfurled again, a smug sound that filled the entire space. “Cikarius is the SionagogSyndicate’s best assassin,” he said, and I could almost feel the smugness radiating from him. “Always gets his man… or in this case, woman.”

I fought against Cikarius’s hold, muscles straining, skin slick with perspiration. The air tasted metallic, heavy with fear and the tang of impending violence. Around us, the lab was silent, save for the distant hum of lights and our own ragged breaths—a stark contrast to the vibrant cacophony of Dufair’s jungles outside.

I couldn’t believe it. This man, whose touch had ignited something primal within me, was now my captor. His scent, once a heady mix that pulled at my senses, now filled me with dread. But there was something in his eyes, a glint that didn’t match the hard set of his jaw. It was almost like… No, I couldn’t afford to hope. Not now.

My heart hammered against my ribcage, a frantic drumbeat in the lab’s silence. The air was electric with tension, every instinct screaming at me to flee, but Cikarius’s iron grip held me fast. How could I have fallen so hard for his façade? I mentally chastised myself for being such a fool, even as I felt the ripple of his muscles tighten around me.

“Hide when I say,” he whispered into my ear, his voice a low thrum that sent shivers down my spine despite the danger. Confusion clouded my thoughts, his words a puzzle I couldn’t solve amidst the chaos.

“Why—” I started, but his eyes cut me off, their yellow glow fierce and unyielding.

“Understand?” His question was a command, and I nodded, more lost than ever.

“Get on with it,” Varek’s voice sliced through the thick atmosphere, impatient, cold. “We have news for Ivor.”

The mention of Ivor sparked a fire in my belly. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of information, trying to make sense of the madness.

“Ivor Arteus?” The name slipped from my lips before I could catch it, a gasp that betrayed the shock constricting my throat. Ivor—calm, collected Ivor, with his sharp suits and sharper business acumen—intertwined in this web of deceit? It was incomprehensible.

“He’s my boss’s competition,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, the words tasting like betrayal. “He owns the only other firearms company worth mentioning on Alfataken Station.” Memories of formal dinners and polite conversation swirled in my head, now tainted with the sour sting of treachery. Ivor killing for profit? It was a chilling thought.

“Enough of the chatter.” Varek’s command was a whip-crack in the stillness, his intent clear as the sterile light that bathed us all in its unforgiving glow.

Cikarius’s response came smooth as silk, a deadly promise. “Gladly.”

His next words were for me alone, a secret shared in the barest of whispers, a brush of his lips against the shell of my ear sending involuntary shivers down my spine. “Now.”

With those words, he spun around, and I knew this was the moment to act. His declaration hung in the air, heavy with meaning. “The mission is Mia’s safety and happiness.”

A flood of adrenaline surged through me at his signal, my legs carrying me away with a haste born of survival instinct. I darted toward the cover of the counters, my mind reeling at Cikarius’s allegiance. Was this another deception, or had the assassin with eyes like molten gold truly turned against his orders for me?

As I crouched low, hidden from view, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder. Cikarius faced Varek, the tensionbetween them palpable. And then it began—a dance of lethal intent—as Cikarius moved with a grace that belied his size, each motion deliberate, each strike a silent vow of protection.

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