Page 34 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

"Coward!" I roar. "Face me like a warrior!"

More shots answer me, this time in a sweeping pattern across the elevator roof. I crouch low, then spring upward with all my strength. My fist punches through the weakened metal, and my fingers close around something solid—an ankle.

I yank downward with all my might. There's a startled cry as my attacker crashes through the roof, landing in a heap at my feet.

A Vakutan. One of my own kind.

He scrambles to his feet, plasma rifle aimed at my chest. His scales are a dull orange, his ridge marked with the scars of old battles. I recognize the pattern of those scars—the 23rd Assault Division. He fought at the Battle of Antares Prime. A fellow veteran.

"Why?" I demand, not moving. "This is dishonorable. We are Vakutan."

His laugh is bitter. "Honor?" He spits on the floor. "Honor doesn't put food on the table, Annihilator. Honor doesn't rebuildwhat was lost when they told us to lay down our weapons and go home."

"So you sell yourself to Kallus? Disgrace everything we fought for?"

"We fought for victory!" he snarls. "Not this... peace." He says the word like it's poison. "Kallus understands. The war never ended. It just changed battlefields."

"And Quinn? The ambassador? She's innocent in all this."

He shrugs. "Collateral damage. Nothing personal."

"It's personal to me." I tense, ready to spring.

He sees the shift in my stance and fires, but I'm already moving. The shot grazes my shoulder as I close the distance between us. His rifle clatters to the floor as I slam him against the wall, the impact denting the metal.

"For the glory of Vakuta," he hisses, drawing a vibroblade from his belt.

The blade slices across my abdomen, cutting deep. Pain flares, hot and sharp, but I don't release my grip. I can't. Quinn's life depends on it.

"For its honor," I reply, seizing his wrist and twisting until the blade falls.

We grapple in the confined space, two warriors bred for battle. He's good—trained like I was—but desperation gives me strength. I drive my knee into his stomach, then grab his head in both hands.

One sharp twist. A sickening crack.

His body goes limp in my grasp. I lower him to the floor, my breathing ragged. Blood—my blood—pools at my feet.

"You fought well," I murmur, closing his eyes with my palm. "May you find the battle you seek in the next life."

I retrieve his rifle and force the elevator doors open with my bare hands. The car has stopped between floors. I climb up tothe next level, ignoring the burning pain in my side. Blood seeps through my fingers as I clap a hand to the wound.

Back in the hallway, I find another elevator and punch the button for the roof. As the doors close, I lean against the wall, leaving a smear of blood.

The cut is deep. Too deep. But I've fought with worse. I've survived worse.

Hold on, Quinn, I think as the elevator climbs. I'm coming.

The numbers tick upward. Twenty-five... twenty-six... twenty-seven.

The doors slide open to reveal the rooftop garden, the night air cool against my face. Somewhere among the exotic plants and twinkling lights, Quinn is in danger. And I won't let Kallus win. Not tonight. Not ever.

I step out of the elevator, weapon ready, blood dripping onto the polished floor. One thought drives me forward through the pain.

Find Quinn. Protect Quinn. Nothing else matters.

CHAPTER 15

QUINN

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