Page 13 of Alien Assassin's Heir
I should walk away. I should spit in his face. I should scream until patrol drones show up and tase him into a coma.
But I don’t.
Because Idoneed closure. I need to look him in the face and burn out whatever’s still clinging to my ribs like ivy.
I exhale through my nose and step back.
“Fine,” I say. “One cup. That’s it.”
He nods, once. No smile. Just that unreadable look, like something important just shifted behind his eyes.
“I’ll message you,” I say, “when I pick a place. Neutral ground. Public.”
“Understood.” His voice is so soft I almost miss it.
I turn on my heel and walk away before I do something stupid—like cry, or scream, or ask him why the hell he ever left.
Behind me, I can feel his gaze on my back. It’s not a spy’s look. It’s not cold or calculating.
It’s desperate.
And worse?
It feels like home.
