Page 84 of Alien Mercenary's Wife
Her heart squeezed in her chest. He'd done all this—become the prince he never wanted to be—for her.
God, she loved this impossible man.
The stretcher's canopy closed over her, medical systems engaging with a gentle hum. Her last clear vision was of more troops arriving, corporate security surrendering to Imperial forces, and a shuttle bearing the presidential seal touching down in the distance.
Then warmth spread through her limbs and consciousness faded, leaving her floating in peaceful darkness.
21
The presidential shuttle touched down, its engines still spooling down as armored troops poured from the cargo bay. T'Raal counted at least two full squads, weapons trained on the scattered remains of corporate security forces. Imperial combat robots stood silent among the wreckage, their weapons lowered but ready.
He stood beside his father in the sudden quiet, acutely aware of the blood splattered across his clothes and the way human soldiers tracked his every movement. Behind them, the medical shuttles had already departed with Reese and Mason, racing toward the Devan station with Lord Healer, Laarn K'Vass.
She was safe. Whatever came next, his little mate was safe.
A man emerged from the presidential shuttle, moving with lethal grace despite the tailored suit. Young for a human president, built like a weapon wrapped in expensive fabric. T'Raal frowned. He'd never met President Murphy before now, but the male wouldn't look out of place among any group of Latharian warriors.
Murphy's attention tracked across the wreckage—bodies, weapons, blood—without flinching before settling on Daaynal.
"Stand down," he ordered sharply. The human troops lowered their weapons. "All units, secure the perimeter but do not engage Imperial forces."
"Cameron." Daaynal swept his arms wide in welcome. "Thank you for coming personally."
President Cameron Murphy walked toward them, a broad smile across his face. "When you call and say you need immediate support on Earth, I drop everything. Though I have to admit, I'm curious what was important enough to bring you here personally with your drakeen."
T'Raal glanced around.Draanth, he hadn't noticed the insignia on the four combat units positioned around them. His father's personal mark. He turned and looked at Daaynal, spotting the link band half-hidden beneath his father's long hair. Four drakeen under simultaneous control. Most pilots barely managed one.
Murphy's gaze swept the destroyed transports, the bodies of corporate security personnel, the scattered evidence of what had clearly been a one-sided battle. "Who the hell owns these transports?" he barked out.
One of the surviving corporate guards looked between the president and the emperor with obvious terror. "Nexus Dynamics, sir. The corporate security division."
Murphy's expression darkened. "Nexus Dynamics was conducting armed operations on Earth without authorization?"
Daaynal gestured T'Raal forward. "T'Raal can explain the situation better than I can. He's been investigating their activities."
Murphy's attention focused on T'Raal. His gaze was sharp with intelligence as he took in the blood splattered on T'Raal's combats and his weapons, neither of which were Imperial standard. "Who are you?"
"Crown Prince T'Raal K'Saan," Daaynal replied, puffing his chest out with pride. "My son."
Something twisted in T'Raal's chest at the title.
"T'Raal Verran-K'Saan," he corrected. He wouldn't abandon the name his mother had given him, not even for Imperial protocol.
Daaynal cut him a sharp glance, but he nodded. "Of course. Crown Prince T'Raal Verran, of the house of K'Saan."
Murphy gave a short nod and got right down to business. "Well, Your Highness, what kind of investigation brings Imperial royalty into armed conflict with corporate security on my soil?"
T'Raal straightened. He liked Murphy.
"Nexus Dynamics manufactured defective neural implants forScorperiounits. The implants are killing veterans slowly, causing progressive paralysis and system failure. When the veterans tried to seek legal remedy, Nexus began systematically eliminating them."
Murphy's expression set, a small muscle in the corner of his jaw pulsing. "Eliminating them how?"
"Assassination teams. Staged accidents. Corporate killers with government clearances making inconvenient witnesses disappear." T'Raal's voice hardened. "They were transporting two veterans to a black site facility for permanent disposal when we intervened. There's a third still unaccounted for. A male named Hughes," he added. Just because Reese wasn't here to look after her people, it didn't mean he was going to forget them. "There are others as well."
Murphy's expression grew colder with each word, presidential composure giving way to hardness. "How many veterans are we talking about?"
"Fifty-three filed the original lawsuit. Less than ten still live." T'Raal let that number hang in the air. "The rest diedin accidents that became less accidental the closer they got to court."
