Page 6 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

I swallow hard, the collar digging deeper. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

“Fantastic plan,” Clara says, wiggling her bound hands for emphasis. “Got a secret key hidden in your boot? Or maybe a Reaper weakness you’ve been keeping to yourself?”

“I’m working on it,” I snap, scanning the cage. It’s not just rusted; it’s crude, like it was cobbled together from scrap metal. The floor is littered with old straw and debris, but there’s nothing sharp enough to cut through these restraints. “You two have been here longer. Any bright ideas?”

“Well,” Clara says, tilting her head mock-thoughtfully, “I was going to suggest we wait for Prince Charming, but I think he might be busy with the captain.”

T’vek hisses, her scales shimmering faintly in the dim light. “This isn’t a joke, Clara. If we don’t get out of here, we’re next on Reku’s entertainment list.”

“I’m aware,” Clara shoots back, her usual levity cracking for the first time. “But unless you’ve got a gun hidden in your scales, I’m fresh out of escape plans.”

I press my back against the bars, testing their strength. They don’t budge, and the movement sends a spike of pain through my skull. “We need to find a way to get these cuffs off. And that collar. Then we can figure out how to get out of this cage.”

“Easier said than done,” T’vek mutters, her golden eyes scanning the room beyond our cage. “They’ve got guards posted. And not the friendly kind.”

“We’ll improvise,” I say, forcing confidence into my voice even as my heart pounds. “We don’t have a choice.”

The cuffs bite into my wrists, and the collar feels like a noose tightening with every breath. I glance at Clara and T’vek, their faces pale and tense. No one’s coming to save us. If we’re getting out of this, it’s on me. I let out a sharp, piercing yell that echoes through the rusted metal chamber.

“Hey! Reaper scum! Get over here!”

The sound of heavy boots thuds closer, and a massive Reaper guard looms into view. His black skin glistens under the flickering lights, and his crimson bone spurs jut out like jagged knives. He slams a fist against the bars, the impact reverberating through the cage. “Shut your mouth, human, or I’ll rip your tongue out.”

“I’m Quinn Gellar,” I say, despite the way my heart hammers in my chest. “Ambassador of the Intergalactic Diplomatic Corps. I’d like to negotiate with your leader.”

The guard’s laugh is a deep, guttural sound that sends a chill down my spine. “Youwantto be in the presence of Reku the Ruthless? You’ve got a death wish, little human.”

“Tell Mr. Ruthless,” I say, leaning forward as far as the collar allows, “that I can get him far more riches than a handful of prisoners could fetch him on the slave market.”

He snorts, his breath hot and rancid. “Captain Reku said to beware the honeypots who aren’t scared.”

“You’re wrong,” I say, my voice dropping to a low, deliberate tone. “I’m terrified. But I also know that my only way out of this is to get your captain something more valuable than us.”

The guard’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think I’ve got him. Then he shakes his head. “Captain’s busy.”

His gaze flicks down to my chest, where my dress has ripped enough to show a sliver of cleavage. I press myself against the bars, my voice softening. “I can make it worth your while.”

He hesitates, his hand twitching toward the keypad on his belt. For a second, I think I’ve got him. Then he snarls, “Nice try, human,” and stalks off, leaving me slumped against the bars, my heart pounding.

The guard yanks me forward by the leash, the collar digging into my throat as I stumble to keep up. I glance back at T’vek, who’s still in the cage, her golden eyes locked on me. She gives me a wink, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. I don’t know what she’s planning, but I trust her to make it count.

The guard drags me through the rusted corridors of the derelict station, the air thick with the stench of oil and decay. The walls are lined with jagged metal and flickering lights, casting eerie shadows that dance like specters. My heart pounds in my chest, but I keep my head high. If I’m going to die here, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

We reach a massive set of doors, the metal warped and scarred from countless battles. The guard shoves them open, and I’m pulled into what can only be described as a throne room. The space is vast, the ceiling lost in shadows, and the walls are adorned with trophies—weapons, armor, and the skulls of Reku’s enemies. In the center of the room, on a throne made of bones dipped in liquid metal, sits Reku the Ruthless.

He’s even more imposing up close. His black skin glistens under the flickering lights, and his wicked bone spurs jut out like daggers. His glowing blue neural whip rests across his lap, crackling with barely contained energy. At his feet, Daria clings to his leg, her eyes wide and fearful as she looks at me. She’s wearing the remnants of an IEC pilot’s flightsuit, the fabric torn and barely holding together. The spiked collar around her neckis padlocked, just like mine, and the leash trails up to Reku’s massive hand.

The guard shoves me forward, and I stumble, catching myself before I fall. Reku’s eyes narrow as he leans forward, his voice a low growl that reverberates through the room. “Why have you brought her here?”

The guard hesitates, his grip on my leash tightening. “She claims she can get you more riches than the prisoners are worth. I thought?—”

“You thought wrong,” Reku snarls, cutting him off. He stands, his massive frame towering over me, and steps down from the throne. Daria scrambles to follow, her leash trailing behind her. Reku circles me like a predator sizing up its prey, his bone spurs clicking against the metal floor. “What could a little human possibly offer me that I don’t already have?”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Information. I’m a diplomat. I know things—trade routes, security codes, the locations of valuable shipments. Things that could make you the most powerful Reaper in the Badlands.”

Reku stops in front of me, his eyes narrowing. “And why would you give me this information?”

“Because I don’t want to die,” I say. “And because I know you’re not just a raider. You’re a leader. A strategist. You could be more than this.”

---