Page 16 of Claimed By the Alien Assassin
“Here,” I murmur, nodding toward the bar. The droid obliges with a bottle and two chipped glasses. She picks hers up, holds the booze like it’s a lifeline.
I stare at the amber liquid, then at her. “You know, this isn’t what I do.”
Her eyes flick up. Flames smolder behind them—bright, dangerous. “I know. I never said I wanted an assassin, Dayn.”
I raise my gaze, meeting that fire with steel. “But you need one.”
Her eyebrows lift. She takes a long drink, tilting her neck back as if savoring courage. When she sets it down, she had a bruise blooming near her temple. Deep purple.
“How many guys tossed you tonight?” I ask, concern threatening to break the code of silence I live in.
“Three,” she says. “One I saw coming.”
I weigh her words. Pain should slow her, but it didn’t. That’s something else entirely. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Her defiance doesn’t surprise me. But her naked tenacity—her insistence on not backing down—pinches something unbearably familiar. Something starved.
I pull out a data-chip and push it across the bar. “This has coordinates, frequencies, planetary scans. The location of your shuttle, fuel, transponder health.”
Her fingers hover. She picks it up, opens her palm. “You built this?”
“Fixed it, at least.”
She stares at the chip like it’s a promise.
I clear my throat. “I don’t do rescue missions.”
She meets my gaze. Eyes serious, wet with commitment. “I know.”
But I can feel the conformity of it—the tie that binds. Something primal, deep-rooted, pushing me forward even when the rational part of me screams to walk away.
Jalshagar. The word flares through me like a sigil burning on bone. Ancient. Immovable. Unfathomable.
She shouldn’t have that power over me.
But she does.
I slam my glass down. “Fine. I’ll help.”
She blinks. I see hope flicker, then steel. “We leave tonight.”
Night already falling fast, but the station’s clock delays reckoning. I index my wrist-pad. Fuel levels are stable. Shields are at ninety-three percent. Just enough for a stealth run.
“Ship’s ready,” I say.
Her lips quirk into a half-smile. “You ever lead anything?”
For a heartbeat, I don’t answer. Because I’ve never done more than kill and vanish. “No.”
“Then don’t lead this,” she says quietly. “Just show up when I need a blade.”
My stomach knots. Because she’s not asking me for protection. She’s offering me something more—purpose.
And I swallow hard. “Deal.”
She stands then, voice low. “I’ll get the people.”
