Page 9 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

“On it, boss. Try not to kill everyone before I get the chance to help.”

I grin, baring my teeth. “No promises.”

The airlock cycles open, and I step into the station, my blade ready. The Reapers might know I’m here, but they don’t know what’s coming for them.

CHAPTER 5

QUINN

The captain’s head stares up at me, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed, a grim reminder of what’s coming. My stomach churns, but there’s nothing left to heave. Reku looms over me, his bone spurs glinting like bloodied knives under the dim light. He snaps the leash in his hand, and the sound cracks through the room like a gunshot.

Daria moves fast, her bare feet silent on the grimy floor. She’s at my side before I can flinch, her hands working the manacles with practiced ease. The metal clatters to the ground, and I rub my raw wrists, my pulse racing.

“Why is he letting me go?” I whisper, my voice trembling. My eyes dart to Reku, who’s watching us with a twisted grin, his neural whip coiled at his side like a serpent ready to strike.

“He’s not.” Daria’s voice is low, urgent. Her red mohawk brushes my cheek as she leans in. “He wants to make it more entertaining for himself. Freeing your hands so you can fight back.”

I glance at Reku again, his massive frame blocking the only exit. My stomach drops. “I’m not a fighter.”

“Then run.” Her fingers tighten on my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “I’ll distract him.”

Reku’s laugh booms through the room, deep and guttural. “What’s the matter, little diplomat? Scared of a fair fight?” He cracks the whip, and the air sizzles with the sound of it. “Or are you just too weak to even try?”

Daria darts to Reku, her movements fluid and practiced, like a dancer who knows every step of a dangerous routine. She drops to her knees at his feet, her hands pawing at his thigh with a familiarity that makes my skin crawl. Her red mohawk brushes against his leg as she looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Please, Master Reku,” she says, her voice soft, almost childlike. “Please don’t kill her.”

Reku tilts his head, his bone spurs catching the light like jagged shards of obsidian. “Why not?” he asks, and it’s not mocking. He sounds genuinely curious, like a predator trying to understand why its prey would beg for mercy.

“Because I could use the help,” Daria says quickly, her fingers tightening on his thigh. “I’m tired of scrubbing pots and cleaning up after the entire crew. If she helped me, I’d have more time to spend making you happy…”

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Reku’s eyes soften, the red glow in them dimming to a warm, almost affectionate light. He reaches down, his massive hand cupping Daria’s cheek with a tenderness that makes my stomach twist.

“Would you like me to give her to you, my pet?” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.

This is my chance. I don’t think, I just move. My feet hit the floor hard as I bolt for the throne room door, my heart pounding in my ears. The door is so close, just a few more steps?—

It slams shut with a deafening bang, the sound reverberating through the room like a death knell. I skid to a stop, my hands slamming against the cold metal.

“Going somewhere, Ambassador?” Reku’s voice is a low growl behind me, dripping with amusement.

The power blade hilt clatters across the floor toward me, its weight unmistakable even before I catch it. My fingers scramble to grip it, but it’s like holding a lead pipe—awkward, unwieldy, and completely beyond my ability to swing with any kind of precision. I barely manage to keep it from slipping out of my hands.

Reku grins, his bone spurs catching the dim light as he flicks his neural whip. The air crackles with the sound, and a faint blue glow emanates from the weapon. "Come, Ambassador. Your captain met his end with courage. Don’t disappoint me.”

"Master, no!" Daria shrieks from the corner, her voice cracking with desperation.

"Silence," Reku snaps, not even glancing at her. His eyes are locked on me, gleaming with sadistic glee. "You’ll be punished later."

Daria shoots me a helpless look, her red mohawk trembling as her body tenses. The collar around her neck seems to tighten, her fingers instinctively brushing against it. My hands grip the hilt tighter, but it’s no use. The blade feels like a death sentence in my hands, not a weapon.

With a sharp exhale, I throw the hilt to the floor. It clangs against the metal, rolling away uselessly. "You don’t want a fight," I say, a storm raging inside me. "Because me facing off against you like this isn’t a fight. It’s an execution."

I spread my arms wide and tilt my head back, exposing my throat. "So if you want an execution, let’s be about it. No more pretense of this being a fight."

Reku’s grin falters, replaced by a scowl that twists his face into something even more monstrous. His grip tightens on the whip, and he lashes out with a vicious crack. The neural whip strikes my shoulder, and pain explodes through my body like fire in my veins. I bite down on a scream, my knees buckling as I collapse to the floor.

"Pick it up," he growls, his voice low and feral.

---