Page 23 of Alien Assassin's Heir

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That scent. Smoky, metallic, tinged with something wild and earthy. Not quite cologne—Kraj never wore any—but unmistakablyhim.

I press it to my chest.

Just for a minute.

Just to remember.

Then I pull it on over my sleep shirt, the sleeves too long, the shoulders too wide.

It swallows me whole.

But I don’t take it off.

I crawl back into bed, wrap the blanket around myself, and breathe slow. The jacket’s weight is comforting. Like armor. Like memory. Like something I never really let go of, even when I told myself I had.

I hate how good it feels.

How safe.

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