Page 27 of Billionaire Alien Boss Daddy

I won’t lose her. Not to him. Not to anyone.

I’m sprinting across the bridge, the steel beams blurring past me as the channel below glistens under the dim city lights. My lungs burn, but I don’t slow down. Claire’s face flashes in my mind—her green eyes wide with fear, her voice on the phone cutting off before she could finish. Ryly’s smirk from the gala echoes in my head, his words dripping with malice. I push harder, my boots pounding the pavement.

Then, the roar of an engine. I glance back just in time to see the black truck veering straight for me. No time to dodge. The impact is colossal, like a starship crashing into a planet’s surface. My body slams into the concrete railing, and for a moment, the world is a kaleidoscope of pain and sound. The railing gives way under the force, and we’re tumbling—me, the truck, and chunks of shattered concrete—into the channel below.

The water hits like a sledgehammer, cold and unforgiving. My lungs scream for air, but I’m pinned under the truck, the weight crushing me into the muddy bottom. My scales ache, the image inducer flickering, my human disguise sputtering out.

"Come on, move!" I growl at my limbs, my voice gurgling through the water. My hands claw at the muck as I struggle to push the truck off me. One heave. Two. The frame groans, metal bending under my strength, and with a final surge, I wriggle free. My chest burns, but I don’t have time to catch my breath.

The driver. He’s still in the cab, seatbelt tangled, his face pale and panicked as bubbles rise from his mouth. I swim to him, my claws tearing through the shattered windshield. His eyes widen as he sees me—my true form, indigo scales and red eyes—but I don’t have time for his terror. I yank him free, his body limp in my arms, and kick for the surface.

We break through the water, and I haul him onto the concrete bank. He’s coughing, sputtering, gasping for air, and I’m on him in an instant, my hand gripping his collar.

"Who sent you?" I snarl, my voice low and dripping with menace. His eyes dart around, wild and unfocused, but before he can answer, the sound cuts through the night—a sharp crack, like ice fracturing. His head jerks violently, and blood sprays across my face. I’m on my feet in an instant, scanning the rooftops, but the sniper’s already gone.

The sound of sirens cuts through the night, wailing like angry ghosts. Red and blue lights flash in the distance, growing brighter as they close in. I wipe the blood from my face, the image inducer flickering back to life, restoring my human disguise. My compad buzzes in my pocket, still functional despite its dip in the channel. Precursor blessings, indeed.

I pull it out, my fingers moving quickly.

“Stay safe. Go to my office. Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

I hit send and glance up as the first squad car screeches to a halt. Two officers jump out, their hands hovering near their holsters. One of them barks at me.

“Sir, step away from the body!”

I raise my hands, slow and deliberate. “I’m unarmed,” I say, my voice calm, steady. “But you might want to secure the rooftops. The shooter’s still out there.”

The officers exchange a glance. One of them stays with me while the other calls for backup. Meanwhile, paramedics swarm the driver’s body, but it’s too late. His eyes are glassy, his chest still. I don’t need a coroner to tell me he’s gone.

The officer in front of me narrows his eyes. “You got a name?”

“Simon Karr,” I say. “CEO of Karr Industries. I was on my way to a meeting when the truck hit me.”

“You’re awfully calm for someone who just got run off a bridge.”

I shrug, my lips curling into a faint smile. “Years of practice.”

He’s not amused. “You’re going to need to come with us. We’ve got questions.”

“Of course,” I say, my tone agreeable. I don’t have a choice. Not if I want to keep Veritas off the radar. I glance at my compad, hoping Claire got my message.

The paramedics approach me next, fussing over the cuts and bruises I’ve let them see. I let them wrap a bandage around my arm, but when they suggest a trip to the hospital, I decline.

“I’ve got a board meeting in the morning,” I say, flashing a polite smile.

“Sir, you were just in a serious accident?—”

“And I’m fine,” I interrupt, my voice firm. “I’ll sign whatever waiver you need.”

They exchange glances but don’t push. Instead, they lead me to a patrol car. I slide into the backseat, my compad buzzing again.

“Got it. Be careful, Simon.”

I exhale slowly, my chest tightening. She’s safe, for now. But the grolgath aren’t going to stop. Not after tonight. If anything, they’ll double down.

The officer in the driver’s seat glances at me in the rearview mirror. “So, Mr. Karr,” he says, “you mind telling me how you ended up in the channel?”

“I think the truck hit me,” I say dryly.

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