Page 9 of Owned By the Hvrok

And behind him…

Those wings. Folded tight. Massive. Segment upon segment of the same eerie black material. Could he really fly? What kind of being was he?

He looked more like a demon than an alien.

She shivered and looked away, heart hammering. But her gaze crept back a moment later. She didn’t want to stare, but she couldn’t help it.

Curiosity battled fear in her chest.

He said nothing. He didn’t acknowledge her. Didn’t spare her a glance.

And somehow, that terrified her more.

They descended into darker corridors now. The lights dimmed with every level they passed, the walls growing smoother, more ominous. Fewer beings passed them here, andthose that did vanished into doorways or down side paths with their heads low and their voices hushed.

Until finally, they entered a cavernous chamber: vast, circular, lined with docking berths and the parked vessels of a dozen different species.

And there it was.

His ship.

It wasn’t the largest. But it was…breathtakingin its own terrifying way. Sleek. Angular. Pitch-black like him. No name, no insignia, no markings of any kind. It sat like a sleeping predator, poised and waiting.

Her floating container glided to a halt before it.

He raised one armored hand. There were no visible buttons. No console. Just a low, guttural command spoken in a language she couldn’t begin to understand.

The ship responded.

The hatch peeled open with a hiss.

Smooth and silent—as if the vessel itself had been waiting for him.

The glass chamber moved again, drawn forward into the yawning darkness of the ship’s interior.

Sylvia’s breath hitched. The walls swallowed the light as she entered, and her reflection vanished.

No one was going to save her.

She was going with him. Wherever he was taking her.

And she still didn’t even know his name.

CHAPTER 6

The chamber was cold.

Not freezing, but sterile. Bright, clinical light poured from a band along the ceiling, casting long shadows across the smooth, metallic walls. Her transparent container—her cage—hovered quietly in the center of the room, making no sound, not even the hum of a motor.

He left her there.

Without a glance. Without a sound.

He simply turned and walked away, his black wings folded neatly behind him, vanishing through a seamless door that slid shut without a whisper. No hiss of hydraulics. No locking mechanism she could hear. He was just… gone.

Sylvia sat rigidly in the center of her confinement, muscles tight with a simmering mix of fear and fury. Her bare feet pressed into the slick glass floor, every nerve taut. She kept expecting something—someone—to follow him in. Another alien, maybe, to gawk at her. To give orders. To explain.

But no one came.

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