Page 45 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

“I haven’t forgotten,” I say, my voice tight. I’m scanning the room, counting the minutes Raven will take, and growing uneasy at the time passing. “Father, I need to?—”

“Nonsense,” he barks, shoving another drink into my hand. “You’ve spent enough time chasing after her. Sit. Drink. Tell your old man about the space station.”

I down the drink in one gulp, the burn doing little to ease the growing tension in my chest. “Raven’s been gone too long.”

“Bah,” he says, but I’m already moving, pushing past him. My father follows, his laughter dying as he sees the set of my jaw.

The scent of Raven—jasmine and something uniquely hers—leads me outside. The cool night air hits my face, but it’s the sight that chills me to the bone. Three Grolgath, their true forms barely concealed in the dim light, are dragging Raven toward a black car.

Her scream tears through the night, and I can’t tell if it’s panic or pain. It doesn’t matter. The sound ignites something primal in me, something that has no place for reason or restraint.

I roar, a sound that shakes the ground beneath my feet, and charge. One of the Grolgath turns, his scales glinting, but I’m already on him. My fist connects with his jaw, and his head snaps back with a sickening crack. He stumbles, but I don’t give him a chance to recover. My hands are on his throat, squeezing until I feel the bones give way.

Behind me, my father’s voice rises, sharp and commanding. “Karc! The car!”

I let the lifeless Grolgath drop and turn just in time to see the car roaring away, Raven’s face pressed against the window. My father is already chasing it, his old legs moving faster than they should.

I sprint after him, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The car disappears around a corner, and when I round it, I skid to a stop. My father is lying in the street, clutching his chest, his face pale and drawn.

“Father!” I’m at his side in an instant, my hands on him, searching for wounds. “What happened?”

He coughs, a wet, rattling sound. “Got too close,” he manages, his voice weak. “Bastards hit me with something. My hearts—Karc, they’re failing.”

My own hearts pound in my chest, panic clawing at my throat. But I force it down, reaching for the comm unit on my wrist. “Pyke,” I bark, the word sharp and desperate. “I need medics. Now.”

My father grabs my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. “Don’t let them take her, Karc. She’s your jalshagar. You fight for her. You understand me?”

I nod, my vision blurring. “I won’t let her go, Father. I swear it.”

"Father," I choke out, my hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the tremors running through his body. His skin is pale, his breaths shallow and labored. "Hold on. The medics are coming. Just hold on."

His hand clamps around my wrist, his grip still stronger than it should be. His voice is a rasp, but there’s no mistaking the command in it. "Go. Raven—she’s your jalshagar. You don’t let them take her. You hear me, boy? You fight for her. Fight like a Vakutan."

I hesitate, torn between the man who raised me and the woman who owns my soul. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, lock onto mine. "Go, Karc. Now."

With a roar of frustration, I release him and sprint down the block, my feet pounding the pavement. The black car is just ahead, its taillights a blur. Raven’s face is pressed against the window, her eyes wide with terror. My hearts hammer in my chest, a drumbeat of fury and fear.

The car begins to rise, hovering a foot off the ground, then two. They’re not just driving—they’re flying. My mind races,calculating distances, angles, possibilities. I leap onto the hood of a parked sedan, the metal buckling under my weight, and then onto the next car, my movements fluid, desperate. The car ascends faster, but I’m gaining, my legs pumping, my focus razor-sharp.

I make the jump.

My hand closes around the car’s axle, my body slamming against the undercarriage. The force nearly rips my arm from its socket, but I hold on, gritting my teeth as the ground falls away. The wind whips around me, tearing at my clothes, my hair. The city blurs below, a sea of lights and shadows. My grip tightens, my muscles screaming, but I don’t dare let go.

A head leans out of the passenger side window, scales glinting in the moonlight. The Grolgath grins, a predator’s smile, and raises a weapon.

"Well, well," he sneers, his voice carrying over the roar of the wind. "Looks like we’ve got a stowaway."

I swing my legs up, hooking them around the axle, and pull myself closer to the car. "You’ve got my jalshagar," I snarl, my voice low and dangerous. "You’re going to regret that."

The Grolgath laughs, a sound that grates against my nerves. "Big talk for a man hanging off a car a mile in the sky. Let’s see how long you last."

The weapon levels at me, and I tense, my mind racing. One shot at this height, and even a Vakutan might not survive the fall. But I don’t have time to think, only to act. I swing my body again, using the momentum to kick the weapon out of his hand. It spins away, disappearing into the void below.

The Grolgath curses, pulling back into the car, but I don’t give him a chance to regroup. I haul myself up, my fingers digging into the grooves of the car’s undercarriage, my muscles burning with the effort. The wind howls in my ears, the citya distant memory beneath me. My eyes lock onto the open window, and I pull myself closer, inch by agonizing inch.

Raven’s face appears in the window, her eyes wide with relief and fear. "Karc!"

"I’m coming, little bird," I growl, despite the chaos around us. "Hold on."

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