Page 12 of Cursed Alien

“We need to get you home.” She helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as they shuffled towards the door. He felt impossibly fragile beneath her hands. “The wagon’s still outside?—”

A low growl stopped her mid-sentence, reverberating through the chamber like distant thunder.

“No.”

“My father is sick,” she insisted. “He needs medicine, warmth. If you keep him here, he might die. Then what good is your bargain?”

She gave the male still swathed in shadow a pleading look.

“You stay,” he finally said. “Fix tech. Father goes.”

Hope flickered in her chest. “You’ll let him go if I promise to stay and make repairs?”

He nodded, then added with a growl, “Mine until fixed.”

“Bella, you can’t trust this… this thing,” her father wheezed. “It’s a trap.”

But she was already considering the proposal. Her father wouldn’t survive much longer without proper care. And this place—a fortress filled with advanced technology—was an opportunity she’d never imagined possible. The tech alone could advance her understanding by decades.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” she asked the Vultor.

“Vultor… honor,” he said, the words clearly difficult. “Promise.”

She studied those inhuman eyes, searching for deception. Despite her fear, she sensed no malice—only a strange, desperate intensity. She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Deal. But I won’t be locked up. I need freedom to move around, to assess what needs fixing.”

To her surprise, he didn’t argue.

“Agreed.”

“Bella, no!” Her father’s voice was stronger this time, but she suspected it was from fear rather than because he was regaining his strength. “You can’t stay with this… this…”

“I’ll be fine, Papa,” she said, turning to the door. “He needs help with repairs, that’s all. I’ll come home when the work is done.”

Her father’s gaze fixed on the monster in the shadows with undisguised terror. “Bella, please?—”

“I made a deal,” she said firmly. “You’re going home to get better. I’ll be fine.”

Her father tried to protest again, but a fit of coughing overtook him. She put his arm around her shoulders and helped him down the stairs, somehow managing to support his weight. She knew the Vultor was following them, but he remained out of sight.

Thankfully the rain had stopped by the time they reached the courtyard and the sky had started to lighten. She helped her father into the wagon and wrapped the thermal blanket around him. The thin silver sheets were surprisingly effective and his shivering immediately began to slow. He slumped down in the seat, clutching the blanket around him while she bent over the engine compartment. A wire had come loose but she couldn’t find any other damage. As soon as she repaired the connection, the engine hummed to life, lights flickering across the dashboard as the autopilot engaged.

She adjusted the navigation system, then wrote a quick note and tucked it into her father’s pocket.

“I’ve programmed the wagon to take you to Agatha’s,” she explained. “She’ll know what to do for you.”

“I can’t leave you here,” he argued weakly.

“Yes, you can,” she said, kissing his forehead. “I promised to fix some tech, that’s all. I’ll be home before you know it.”

With a final adjustment to the wagon’s controls, she stepped back. The wagon lurched and began to move, carrying her protesting father out of the courtyard and down the mountainside toward the village.

She bit her lip as she watched the wagon leave, praying she was doing the right thing.

Agatha will help him, she told herself firmly, then turned to face her captor. He was standing in the doorway, his massive form silhouetted against the dim interior light, and her breath caught. She still couldn’t make out his features but his size alone was terrifying.

“Well,” she said, squaring her shoulders and pushing down her fear. “Show me what needs fixing.”

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