Page 5 of Wrecked By My Alien Mentor

I slam my palm against the wall, the impact cracking plaster. "Shut your mouth before I drop you. Make Pyke very unhappy."

Robbie swallows but holds his ground. "So you'll do it?"

“Fine,” I growl, my voice low enough to make the air vibrate. “Tell Pyke I’ll do my duty for Veritas and the sacred human timeline. But if she quits, it’s on him, not me.”

Robbie’s face lights up like a neon sign, his human disguise’s jowls jiggling as he grins. “Great! You won’t regret this, Oriyn. Cora’s sharp, I’m telling you. She’s?—”

“Leave,” I cut him off, my tone sharp enough to slice steel. He falters, then scurries off the gangplank, his short legs moving comically fast. I wait until he’s out of sight before shutting the door with a slam that rattles the riverboat’s frame.

Inside, I stride to my study, the room a fortress of dark wood and leather. My favorite chair groans as I sink into it, the weight of the last few decades pressing down harder than usual. Mentoring. The word tastes bitter, like burnt coffee. I haven’t trained anyone since Brakkus, and the last time I did, it ended in betrayal—a student turned traitor, siding with the Ataxian Coalition. I swore I’d never make that mistake again.

But here we are. Pyke’s orders. Veritas needs fresh blood, and apparently, I’m the one who’s got to bleed it out of this Cora Daniels.

I lean back, steepling my fingers. If she’s going to be my problem, I’ll do it my way. No coddling, no hand-holding. I’ll throw her into the deep end and see if she sinks or swims. Maybe if she sinks, Pyke will leave me alone.

A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I start plotting. First, I’ll test her nerve. See if she panics under pressure. Then, her adaptability—how quickly she can pivot when the plan goes sideways. And if she survives that, I’ll throw her into something so far out of her depth, she’ll either quit or prove she’s got what it takes.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, the only sound in the room. Seven AM sharp, Robbie said. She’ll be in my office at Orion Plaza, probably nervous, trying to make a good impression. Let’s see how long that lasts.

I grab my Compad and pull up her file again. Cora Daniels. Five-foot-three, brown hair, green eyes. Business degree with a perfect GPA. Likes dry wine and jazz. Couldn’t be more ordinary if she tried. But Veritas doesn’t recruit ordinary, which means there’s something Pyke and Robbie see that I don’t. Yet.

I’ll find out soon enough. For now, I’ll let her think this is a normal internship. Let her believe Orion Weller is just a corporate tycoon with eccentric habits. She’ll learn the truth soon enough—if she lasts that long.

“Cora Daniels,” I mutter, my voice echoing in the empty study. “Welcome to Veritas. Hope you’re ready.”

CHAPTER 3

CORA

The clock on my phone flashes 5:45 a.m. as I stand in front of the full-length mirror, my reflection staring back at me with a mix of determination and nerves. The charcoal blazer hugs my shoulders just right, and the off-white blouse underneath is crisp, but my gaze keeps dropping to the skirt versus trousers debate playing out on my bed.

“Skirt or no skirt. That is the question.”

I step closer to the mirror, smoothing the fabric of the blazer. “Orion Weller. Billionaire. Ruthless. Not the type to care about fashion but definitely the type to notice if you’re not sharp.”

I glance at the trousers again, and that’s when I see it—a tiny stitch out of place near the hem. My stomach sinks. “Great. Just great. Orion’s probably the kind of guy who inspects every thread on his employees’ clothes. One mistake and he’ll fire me on the spot.”

My eyes flick back to the skirt. It’s professional but flirty, and I can’t deny the strategic advantage of showing a little leg. “Fine. Skirt it is. If he’s distracted by my legs, maybe he won’t notice if I mess up something important.”

I snort at my own reasoning, but I slide the skirt on anyway, adjusting the waistband and pulling the hem down just enoughto feel confident. I grab my bag, double-checking that I’ve got everything—notebook, pens, phone, the works—then tiptoe out of my room.

The house is silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. I pause at the top of the stairs, listening for any sign that my parents are awake. Mom’s voice echoes in my head.“Cora, honey, why don’t you ever take risks? You’re too cautious!”

“Well, Mom,” I whisper to myself, “today’s a risk.”

I pad down the stairs, my heels in one hand so they don’t click against the hardwood. The front door creaks when I open it, and I freeze, waiting for the sound of footsteps or a groggy voice calling out. Nothing. I slip outside, the cool morning air hitting my face, and pull the door shut behind me with a soft click.

The cab’s already waiting at the curb, the driver scrolling through his phone. I shove my heels on and climb into the backseat, giving him the address for Orion Plaza.

“Big day, huh?” he says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

“You could say that. Either I’m about to start the best job of my life or get fired before lunch.”

He chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

I lean back in the seat, staring out the window as the city lights blur past. Orion Plaza looms in the distance, its glass facade catching the faint glow of the rising sun. My stomach twists, but I push the nerves down.

“Skirt or no skirt,” I mutter under my breath. “Let’s see if this gamble pays off.”

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