Page 64 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

…but I have to press on.

“I don’t know how you guys got roped into whatever it is you’re mixed with, but youhaveto get us off this ship. That Bullfrog who tried to buy me? He’s bad news – especially for me. I’m not safe here – not as long as he knows I’m still on board.”

Marcel narrows his eyes. For a moment, he’s silent – and I wonder if my rant about the Bullfrog is enough for the leader of the Aurelians to kick me out of their living quarters entirely; or perhaps deposit me right back into the hands of that scarred, slimy bastard.

Eventually, though, Marcel nods in understanding.

“You’re right,” he concedes. “If we don’t hear from the Toads in one hour that the shipment is ready, we’re leaving. It will cost us a fortune – it might even lose us the contract – but we won’t have you unsafe.”

I bite back the curse poised on my tongue – a barbed comment about that ‘fortune’ being nothing but blood money. I can’t afford to care how the Aurelians make their living. I can’t afford to care about anything – not as long as my compliance is all that ensures they get me off this ship and away from the Bullfrog who murdered Ling.

That ugly scar on the slimy bastard’s shoulder is nothing compared to the ugly hatred glowing in his bulbous eyes. If that Bullfrog gets his revolting hands on me…

Tessa smiles, suddenly breaking the tension.

“Thank the Gods! You’re knights in shining armor!”

I turn and look at her, and it doesn’t take a detective to see how hard she’s working to project that smile. She was practically born to play the role of ‘damsel in distress’. She’s just the right combination of strength and vulnerability.

Meanwhile, my own heart is pounding in my chest, and I’m feeling nauseous – the meat turning in my stomach. Yet, as Tessa continues talking, it can’t help but lighten the mood. Her calming voice is almost hypnotic – and I can tell she must have been taught diplomacy from a young age; further scenting my suspicions about her background.

It’s not my place to judge, though.

Instead, I turn back to the Aurelians and ask another accusatory question:

“Okay – then tell me this. Why do you guys keep the heat on so high? It’s like a desert in here.”

Lucius leans back in his seat, and his stern expression softens to that familiar grin. Wiping his bloody lips with the back of his hand, the huge warrior scoffs:

“If you find it uncomfortable, just imagine how a Toad feels! They don’t come here unless they absolutely have to.”

As if scripted, that’s the moment three loudthudsecho at the exterior door.

We all freeze.

Marcel stands, his chair dropping backwards and hitting the floor.

“Bedroom,” he orders. “Now!”

He glances from Tessa back to me, waiting for us to nod in confirmation. I don’t argue – already picturing that hideously scarred Bullfrog on the other side of the door, with some convoluted excuse for why he has the right to reclaim me.

I grab Tessa by the hand and rush her to the bedroom, pulling the dooralmostshut behind us.

But I keep it cracked – just a fraction. Ineedto know what’s happening. Maybe I can’t do anything about it – but I’m tired of being a spectator to my own destiny. I’m tired of letting things justhappento me.

Tessa and I huddle together, peeking through the thin crack. My heart pounds in my ribcage as we wait for the Aurelians to open the exterior door.

They don’t do so immediately. As if still serving their hundred years of military service, the three Aurelians peel off – Quint and Lucius each flanking opposite sides of the doorway. Marcel steps back, to stand in the middle of the room like a towering statue. With Quint and Lucius at either side of the doorway, drawing their Orb-Blades from their waist, a very deadly trap has been set for whoever stands on the other side.

Now, suddenly, I realize I’d read this whole situation all wrong.

The Aurelians aren’t guests of honor – they never were.

They’re prisoners as much as Tessa, or myself. They’re only here because of this shipping contract between the Priesthood and the Toads – and until their cargo is loaded, and they’re permitted to leave, it’s no less potentially deadly for them.

I have a bad feeling about this.

If we don’t get off this ship soon, something horrible is going to happen. I can feel it in my bones.

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