Page 8 of Owned By the Hvrok

This… thing. Thisforcein the shape of a man.

No.

Not a man.

Analien.

It hadn’t needed to shout. It hadn’t raised a weapon.

It hadspoken.

And won.

She didn’t know if she should scream or faint.

When the cell touched the ground, she stumbled forward on trembling legs.

The being waited. Still. Silent.

He made no move to approach her.

But Sylvia knew.

There would be no resistance. No escape.

He had claimed her with a word.

There was no way she could fight this…thing.

And now she was his.

CHAPTER 5

The cage glided soundlessly, floating just above the metallic ground, casting a faint shadow beneath the glowing path lights of the station. Sylvia sat inside, legs drawn up, arms hugging her knees. The alien who had bought her—the one who had ended the auction with a single word—walked beside her. Silent. Imposing. Utterly unreadable.

She hadn't heard a word from him since the auction ended. Not even a glance in her direction. It was as if she were freight. Property.

But she wasn’t alone.

Everywhere they went, beings stared.

Until they saw him.

Then the stares vanished. Heads dropped. Shoulders tightened. The hum of chatter fell to a hush wherever he walked. He didn’t have to do anything—just look, and that was enough to make other aliens avert their gazes or stumble aside, clutching their companions or their drinks or their parcels of alien goods.

They passed through a crowded area that reminded Sylvia of a food court. At least, that’s what it looked like: smoke curled from heat vents, strange aromas hung in the air, and tables were scattered across a broad atrium. But the moment he entered,it changed. Utensils clattered onto tabletops. A hulking, furred alien snatched its tray and slunk away. Conversations ended mid-sentence.

The crowd parted for him like water around a blade.

Sylvia kept her eyes on him through the curved glass of her cage.

If she weren’t so afraid, she might find it fascinating—the fact that every being here feared him.

He was obviously the most dangerous thing on this station, but she should have known that already from his appearance.

His armor was unlike anything she’d ever seen—deep, void-black, absorbing all the light around it. There were no glowing symbols. No alien runes or decoration. Just blank, silent menace. The flexible plating moved like muscle, hugging a tall, muscular frame with the kind of balance that spoke of coiled strength. His steps made no sound. No heavy footfalls. No mechanical clicks.

Too fluid. Too precise.

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