Page 1 of Claimed By the Alien Warlord

CHAPTER 1

REILY

The POS sputters, coughing like it’s on its last breath, as I clutch the wheel and lean forward like I can will it to keep going. “Come on, you rustbucket. Just five more minutes. Don’t you dare die on me now. We’ve been through worse, right?” The engine groans in response, but it keeps rolling, and I let out a shaky breath.

My stomach growls loud enough to compete with the engine. Empty fridge, empty cabinets, and an empty wallet. All thanks to Gary freaking Irons. “That dickhead billionaire shows up, buys the mine, shuts it down, and now I’m begging for a job at a grease pit.” I mutter under my breath, tightening my grip on the wheel. The mountains loom in the distance, their majesty doing nothing to ease my frustration.

The POS wheezes into the parking lot of Fast Freddy’s, the neon sign flickering like it’s on its last legs too. I pull into a spot and give the dashboard a pat. “Atta girl. Maybe I’ll scrape together enough to get you a new muffler. Or at least a prayer.”

I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror. My hair’s a mess, my face pale from skipping breakfast. “Stop looking so sad,” I tell myself. “No one wants to hire someone who looks like they’ve been chewed up and spit out. Smile, and the whole worldsmiles with you.” I force a grin, but it’s more of a grimace. My fingers stretch my lips into something that resembles a smile, but my eyes still screamhelp me.

Inside, the smell of overcooked fries hits me like a wall. The place is empty except for two zit-faced teenagers behind the counter, their heavy metal band tees hanging off their skinny frames like they’re trying to wear their older brothers’ clothes. Boris and Barfbag. Just my luck.

“Hey, baby,” Boris says, his braces catching the fluorescent light as he grins. “If I were in charge of the alphabet, I’d put my D next to your P.”

Barfbag snorts, doubling over like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Dude, that’s gold. Pure gold.”

My jaw tightens. “Real original. Did you come up with that all by yourself, or did you have to google ‘cheesy pickup lines for losers’?”

Boris leans on the counter, undeterred. “Someone’s feisty. I like it.”

“I’m here for the job interview,” I say, refusing to let my annoyance show. “Is the manager around, or are you two the welcoming committee?”

Barfbag gestures toward the back with a greasy spatula. “He’s in the office. Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.” I mutter, stepping past them. My stomach growls again, louder this time, and I force myself to keep walking. I need this job. Even if it means working with these idiots. Even if it means serving greasy fries to every tourist passing through Coldwater. Even if it means swallowing my pride and pretending not to hate every second of it.

I need this job.

The door to the manager’s office looks like it’s seen better days—scuffed and dented, with a crooked nameplate that readsChad Browning, Manager.I knock twice, sharp and quick, and wait.

The door swings open after a moment, and there he is. Chad. His tie is too short, his mustache too thin, and his expression too smug. His eyes flick over me like he’s already decided I’m not worth his time.

“Can I help you?” His voice is all nasal condescension, like he’s doing me a favor just by acknowledging my existence.

“Yeah, I’m here for the job interview. Reily Dawson.”

His eyebrows lift a fraction, like he’s surprised I managed to string a sentence together. “Ah, yes. Come in.” He steps back with a flourish, gesturing toward a chair that’s seen more asses than a carnival ride.

I sit, trying not to fidget as he closes the door and takes his place behind the desk. He picks up my resume like it’s a piece of evidence in a trial and peers at it over the top of his glasses.

“So, Reily. I see you’ve worked at... a bait shop?”

“And a gas station.”

“Hmm.” He sets the paper down, folding his hands like a TV lawyer. “This is aquick service restaurant,Reily. It’s fast-paced. Demanding. Are you sure you’re... qualified for that kind of environment?”

“Um, I kind of think I can learn the more technical aspects.”

His lips press into a thin line. “That’s what everyone thinks.” He leans back, his chair creaking under his weight. “Here at Fast Freddy’s, weexpectdedication. Discipline. You’ll be permanently on call, meaning if I need you, youcome in.No excuses. If you don’t show up, you’re terminated.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa, dude, aren’t you going a bit far for a fast food job?”

His face turns red, and he slams his hand on the desk. “It’s aquick service restaurant.Say the words ‘fast food’ again, and you’re gone before you even start.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Got it. Quick service. Totally different.”

He glares at me, clearly unamused. “This isn’t a joke, Reily. We take our work seriously here.”

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