Page 1 of Rescued By the Alien Hit Man

CHAPTER 1

MIA

The air in the Dufair jungle thrummed with life, charged with the energy of the countless bioluminescent plants that made Talamhmar’s moon a hot spot for scientists and botanists. I knelt beside a cluster of iridescent ferns that shimmered like a field of stars in the dark jungle, their fronds flowing with a soft green light. My fingers danced over their glowing fronds. Each touch sent a shiver up my spine—these were unlike anything we’d seen before. With precise movements, I extracted a fragile, luminescent specimen.

The ground was soft and damp beneath me, the recent rain accentuating the lush aroma of moss and the heady scent of alien blossoms. The jungle canopy above bathed me in ethereal light, casting the world around in hues of haunting blues and purples. Each plant cradled secrets within its radiant leaves—secrets I was determined to unlock.

Excitement skittered through me at finally being on Dufair. After months of begging my boss to let us get in some field work, he’d finally allowed Amund and me to venture to the moon for research.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Amund’s voice pulled me from my silent reverie. “These ferns could revolutionize our understanding of bioluminescence.”

“Absolutely,” I said without looking up, my hands steady as I placed the sample into a container. “This one has an enzyme I’ve never seen before. It might revolutionize bio-luminescent energy.”

“Ah, Mia, always thinking of the next big discovery.” His laughter was a warm blanket in the coolness of the moon’s evening. “I’ll scout ahead for more.”

“Be careful,” I said, watching his retreating figure dissolve into the vibrant thicket.

If my parents had still been alive, they’d have made the next big discovery. Once part of a family of three scientists hoping to find cures for disease and uncover alternative forms of energy, now it was just me.

Time slipped away as I continued my meticulous collecting, each new specimen more fascinating than the last. The jungle’s symphony was a constant backdrop—the rustle of leaves, distant calls of unseen creatures, the hum of life itself. But suddenly, an unsettling silence fell. The usual chorus of the jungle ceased, as if holding its breath. My ears strained for the familiar rustle of leaves or the distant calls of the jungle’s inhabitants, but there was nothing. Only a void where sound should have been.

“Amund?” My voice sliced through the stillness. No response, just the echo of my anxiety. I stood up, my heart hammering against my ribs. I tried again, louder. “Amund!”

Still nothing. Panic clawed at my chest, as I realized even the guards’ chatter had vanished. “Guards!” I called out, hoping one of the guards my employer insisted I bring with me would answer. Silence mocked me.

As I turned in a slow circle, every shadow seemed to pulse with unseen threats. My breaths came quick, my skin pricklingwith the anticipation of danger. A suffocating panic threatened to take hold, but I forced myself to take calming breaths. What if Amund was hurt and needed me?

“Guards!” Still nothing.

The quiet held a menace now, a prelude to a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. My hand closed over the hilt of the small utility knife I carried—pitiful against what might lurk beyond the glow.

“Amund, this isn’t funny,” I said to the dark, knowing full well he wouldn’t play such tricks.

I took a step forward, my mind racing. Should I seek shelter? Or find Amund and the others? But before I could decide, shadows shifted, and the night erupted into chaos.

The luminescent flora dimmed as if to hide from the terror that tore through the tranquil scene. A battle cry shattered the stillness, and slavers burst forth from the underbrush, their figures grotesque parodies in the bioluminescent glow.

The leader’s silhouette was unmistakable—the scars on his face catching what little light there was, making him a specter of violence incarnate. His men swarmed the clearing with the confidence of predators who had cornered their prey.

“Amund!” I screamed, hoping against hope he’d answer, that he’d somehow escaped notice. But my heart sank as I heard his voice cut short by a choked-off cry of pain.

I stumbled back, tripping over a root, my knife scattered to the ground. My palms hit the soft dirt, the damp soil cold and unforgiving. The slavers were upon us, their guttural language filling the air as they rounded up their quarry.

Then I saw him—Amund—falling to the ground a hundred meters away from me. A gash along his neck had turned his field shirt a dark rust. His eyes met mine in one final, desperate plea before the life drained from them. Something inside me tore away with his departing gaze.

“Amund!” I screamed, but my voice was lost in the chaos. Blood spattered across the glowing plants, their light dimming under the grim reality of violence. The slavers turned their attention to me next, their eyes gleaming with malice.

“Please, no,” I said, backing away until I felt the rough bark of a tree press against my spine. My mind filled with visions of capture, of enslavement, and worse. I’d rather die here, on this foreign moon, than endure whatever horrors awaited at the hands of these monsters.

“Get her!” The leader barked, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. The slavers lunged at me, and I braced myself for the end.

But as I cowered, waiting for the end, out of the shadows a shape detached itself from the darkness—a towering figure with skin the colour of bittersweet nightshade. Eyes that glowed with a fierce, unnatural yellow locked onto mine, mesmerizing and terrifying all at once. His presence alone commanded my terror-stricken attention.

He moved like a wraith, a silent storm of vengeance. Each motion was purposeful, each strike precise. Slavers fell before him, their cries ending abruptly. He was like death incarnate, and yet, in that moment, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Stay down,” he ordered, his voice low and resonant. It vibrated through the chaos, anchoring me to life even as everything else spelled certain death.

“Who—” was all I managed before he was upon them again, a whirlwind of deadly intent.

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