Page 112 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

Instead, the cold, dead gaze of the robots bear solitary witness – which I find strangely comforting. Oblog loves to show off his power and he craves a crowd. If only the robots are watching, it means we’re safe.

For now.

Even as the dire nature of our situation weighs down on me, I feel an illicit thrill. I love how my enhanced brain is putting all these things together in a way it couldn’t before. My mind is seeing pieces of a gigantic jigsaw puzzle, and they click together effortlessly. I realize the Bond has honed more than my muscles. It’s sharped my instincts – and those are what’s going to get us off this ship alive.

Even as I scheme, Lord Oblog’s lips stretch wide.

“Welcome, Jamie. So good of you to come.”

I snort. Oblog is cocky in his victory. The more certain he is of success, the more mocking his tone. Right now, it’s dripping with disdain for me – but I don’t care.

My Aurelians do. They stand beneath Lord Oblog, and their anger is a hot, red coal burning in the shared aura of our individual minds.

Don’t let him get to you, I warn the triad.He wants you to snap.

It feels like a strange reversal, to be the one guiding these god-like warriors – but they need me right now. They need the scheming mind that Ling crafted – all that she taught me.

Lucius, for example, is a wildfire. That coal is igniting him, and he’s so close to charging up those stairs and trying to rip Oblog’s throat out that one single word could make him snap.

The Sentinel’s have their guns idly at their sides – and for a terrible moment, part of me wonders if Lucius could actually make it to Oblog before those dead-eyedthingsturned us all to meat and bones.

But I know he won’t risk it with me here.

My triad is still clad in their traditional Aurelian robes – but the crisp, white linen has been sullied by Toad-scum, their own red blood, and the green slime of the slaughtered Bullfrogs.

They stand with their heads held high, and their chins jutting proudly. No matter what Oblog does to them, they’ll maintain their pride.

I walk to stand in front of them – to join them in their defiance. They loom over me – and I can feel their protectiveness and possessiveness even from across the room. They are my guardian angels, watching over me for eternity – three huge, noble protectors who’ll never stop fighting for me.

But not now. Now, we must be still.

Lord Oblog sneers, turning to the fuming Aurelians.

“I believe yourMate,” Lord Oblog gurgles, emphasizing that last word, “told you about our arrangement.”

He repeats it to prove his point:

“Comply with my demands, and she’ll remain unharmed. I brought her here to show you that she is safe and sound – that I’m not a cruel man, and that my word can be trusted.”

Lord Qavar, sitting next to Oblog in his hovering chair, chuckles wickedly.

“The bitch is in heat – look at her! She’s freshly fucked and yet she already wants them again!”

Heat burns my cheeks. The two Toad Lords are playing with me – but they’ve underestimated me, as they always do.

I look up, and force myself to stare the bastards down.

Oblog licks his lips, as if amused by my defiance.

“No, I think she’s had enough – and, besides, I don’t want to spoil her.” His eyes lock with mine. “Go on, Jamie. I brought you here to say goodbye to your triad – but don’t cry. They’ll be back soon enough, with a fresh shipment for me.”

His lips curl.

“Then, your little friend can go free.”

I clench my fists, grinding my teeth. All four of us – me, Marcel, Lucius, and Quint – are like bubbling volcanos, ready to explode.

Suddenly, Lucius transmits an image into my mind – of him rushing up the stairs and ripping Oblog’s throat out with one hand, while he slams the other fist straight through Qavar’s sharp teeth.

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