Page 20 of Claimed By the Alien Assassin
We’re tucked into a back room that smells like spice smoke and frayed circuitry, sitting shoulder to shoulder at a flickering holotable that barely syncs. I’m chewing on a lukewarm protein bar because it's that or my own fingers, and he's staring at the map like he’s memorizing it vein by vein.
“I’ll need entry vectors,” he says, voice low and rough, like it hasn’t been used for anything but threats in a long time.
I swallow. “You’ll get them. There’s a mining tunnel system from before we started terraforming, mostly decommissioned now. They’re off-grid, still dusty. But I know the route by heart.Used to sneak off into them to get away from my family. Twelve kids in one hab? You’d flee, too.”
His lips twitch at that. Not a smile, not exactly. But something close enough to warm me all the same.
“I’ll need cover IDs. Disguise won’t hold forever,” he says.
“I’ll code you into the database as a systems tech. The older models won’t ping anomalies, and most of the updated firmware hasn’t been installed yet, thanks to supply chain delays.” I tap the table. “Snowblossom’s still running on half-broken bones.”
“Good,” he murmurs. “Less surveillance. Less questions.”
I look at him, really look, and feel the heat crawl up my neck. “You know, you don’t talk much, but when you do? It’s all steel and logic. You scare the hell out of me.”
He meets my gaze head-on. “I scare myself sometimes.”
I believe it. There’s something coiled in him, something feral and ancient. But he listens. Really listens. Like he’s trying to hear past the words into the marrow beneath.
That’s new.
We pour over schematics and old patrol routes until my eyes blur and my fingers cramp. Dayn points out potential ambush zones, likely blind spots, and escape vectors I’d never have considered. His brain’s wired for war. Mine’s wired for fixing what’s broken.
Together, we might be dangerous.
“I’ve got a handful of people I can trust,” I say, voice quiet now. “Old miners. Engineers. People who remember the colony before it was bought and sold to the highest bidder. They’ll help.”
He nods once. “Names?”
I rattle them off. “Luis Kendrick, Seema Jo, Tomoko Vale, and Roik. Roik’s sketchy, but he owes me.”
“I’ll reach out first,” Dayn says. “Gauge the colony’s temperature. If they’re brittle, I’ll pull back. If they’re just hiding their flame, I’ll light it.”
I blink. “You’d do that?”
“I said I would help.”
And he means it. Not with fanfare or flourish. Just with this quiet, terrifying intensity that makes me wonder how many people have died to that same tone of voice.
I shiver, but not from fear.
“We’ll need to hit the edge of the system, avoid Vortaxian scans,” I say, yanking myself back into focus. “There’s a gravitational anomaly near a dead moon. I can use it to mask our trajectory.”
He nods again, that slight, efficient gesture. “I’ll prep the stealth matrix. Heat signatures, pulse modulation.”
“Remind me to be glad you’re onmyside.”
His eyes flick to mine, unreadable. “For now.”
I roll my eyes, but my pulse skips. “That’s... not comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
The silence that follows is strangely comfortable. Charged, but not tense. Like the static before a storm you’rereadyfor.
“You ever done something like this before?” I ask.
“Rebellions?” He shakes his head. “I kill people, Josie. Not regimes.”
