Page 3 of Pursued By the Dragon Alien

Gribna’s throat bulged as he swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know the coordinates,” he stammered, his thick fingers twitching at his sides.

Razion’s lip curled.Liar. “You expect me to believe that?” Razion advanced another step, gripping his blaster tighter. “You have shipments moving through half the system, yet you don’t know where they’re going?”

Gribna licked his lips. His bulbous eyes darted toward the door as if he could somehow escape. “I don’t ask questions. The Axis pays well, and I move the goods. That’s all.”

Razion’s blood ran hot at the mention of the Axis. That faceless, shadowed force had ruled over too many for too long—enslaved too many, stolen from too many. He had spent yearshunting for even a scrap of intel that would lead him to whoever—or whatever—was behind it.

“That’s okay,” he said smoothly. “I’ll find everything I need when my people go through your databanks.”

Gribna’s teeth flashed. “If you value your life, you’ll leave this alone.”

Razion aimed the barrel of his blaster at Gribna’s mottled forehead. There were things he valued more than his life. Disrupting the Axis’ hold on the quadrant was among them. “Where is the Axis’ headquarters?”

Gribna let out a wet, wheezing sound that was half laugh, half panic. “You think they’d ever tell me? They use me, same as they use everyone. I’m nothing to them.”

Razion ground his teeth. He wanted—needed—answers. Every fragment of information he had on the Axis had led to dead ends and whispers of something too big to pin down. And this slimy bastard had nothing?

“Useless,” Razion spat.

Gribna’s eyes flickered with something. “Wait! I have contact points, meeting spots. Not their headquarters, but—” His hand moved. Too fast. It dove backwards, toward his metal belt, fingers closing around something.

Razion didn’t wait to see what it was. One shot. Clean.Final. Not as painful as a monster like Gribna deserved. The trade master hit the floor, boil-covered body twitching before going still. A half-drawn weapon slipped from his limp grip.

Razion exhaled sharply, disgust curling in his chest. Another dead end. But not for long. He would tear through every stronghold, every hidden dealing, until there was nowhere left for the Axis to hide.

Krask stepped into the chamber, blaster still smoking. “The ship is ours,” he said, taking in the opulent disaster aroundthem. “Control center is secure. Vedd’s slicing into the systems now—pulling every scrap of data we can get.”

Razion stepped around Gribna’s corpse and holstered his weapon. “Good. Strip this place of everything valuable. Weapons, rations, tech—if it’s worth selling it at the Senka Prime trade hub, we take it.” His expression darkened as he looked around. “Then plug the hole in the hull and we’ll tow this ship to salvage.”

Krask nodded. “I’ll take a team to the cargo bay, load up whatever’s worth selling.”

“Do it,” Razion said. “I want this ship gutted before we leave.” He ran his fingers along the gilded wall, scowling at the evidence of Gribna’s stolen fortune. His gut told him there was more to find—secrets buried beneath all this excess.

“I’ll search the rest of this level,” he said, already moving toward the exit. “There might be something else Gribna was hiding.”

Krask smirked. “You just like digging through scums’ leftovers.”

Razion flashed a grin. “And I always find something worth taking.”

With that, he stepped toward the next doorway in the corridor, boots silent against the polished floor. If Gribna had kept prisoners here, there might be survivors. And if the bastard had hidden anythingtrulyvaluable, Razion was going to find it.

Razion moved swiftly, opening doors and scanning the rooms’ contents. The first few held nothing but lavish furnishings and discarded finery—evidence of Gribna’s indulgence. The next contained crates of trade goods, some still sealed. He made a mental note to have them offloaded to his ship and gritted his teeth. This ship was a monument to excess, built on pain and theft. But he would take what Gribna had hoardedand turn it into something useful. Something to heal the damage beings like Gribna had done.

Then he reached the last door.

It slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a dimly lit chamber. His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing—then locked onto a female sitting rigidly on a gilded bed.

His pulse slowed, then kicked hard in his chest.

She was stunning. Dark violet hair tumbled in waves over her shoulders, framing a face carved from defiance and fire. Her bronze skin glowed, revealing a darkening bruise on one cheek, and a sprinkling of gleaming gold freckles dusted her forehead. It wasn’t just her beauty that struck him—it was herpresence. Most captives he’d found were broken or terrified, too beaten down to glare at him the way she did. But her eyes… They were a brilliant fuchsia, almost garishly vivid, even in the absurd opulence of the room. They burned with defiance as her chin lifted in silent challenge. Then he saw the markings on her neck— blue symbols that stood out against her skin. Recognition flickered in his mind—a penal colony designation.

The metallic fabric of her tiny garment clung to her form and left little to the imagination—undoubtedly Gribna’s doing. Silver cuffs were tight on her wrists. Red marks marred her skin there, revealing the unmistakable sign of tools designed for control and oppression.

He took a step closer, aware of the way she tensed, the way her gaze flicked to his blaster, then to the exit, calculating.Good. She was a fighter.

Razion tilted his head, smirking. “Well,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “What an interesting surprise.”

She didn’t shrink back. Didn’t cower. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and said flatly, “Who thefekare you?”

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