Page 8 of Taken By the Alien Killer
She’s not mine.
She never was.
I don’t hear him yield.
Don’t feel the crowd pressing in, don’t register the buzzing of the emergency klaxon that usually signals someone’s about to be murdered live.
I’m still on him.
Still pounding.
Still trying to break something that isn’t the Odex’s face.
“ENOUGH!” a voice cracks through the air. It might be real. I can’t tell anymore.
My fists are slick. Blood runs down my forearms in warm, pulsing lines. The bastard’s barely conscious now, mouth bubbling with something dark and thick, but I’m not done.
Can’t stop.
Not until the ache in my chest dies, not until her name doesn’t burn when it echoes between my ears.
She’s going to marry him. Kaspian fucking Feldspar.
A boot slams into my side—not from the Odex, but someone else. One of the ring officials. Another pulls at my shoulder. My claws lash out instinctively, tearing a groove across someone’s vest.
Three more pile on me. One jams a shock-staff against my ribs and lets it scream.
Pain lashes through me in white-hot bolts, but it’s almostwelcome.My vision swims. I snarl, deep and guttural, like I’ve reverted to something half-feral.
“Back! BACK!” someone’s yelling. “He’s lost it—don’t let him up!”
Another shock. My knees finally buckle.
The bloodied heap under me groans once. Then goes limp.
I breathe, or try to. My lungs fight me. My heartbeat is a war drum in my skull.
They drag me off like a wild animal—two humans and a Khuraxian, all grunting under the effort. My limbs spasm, muscles twitching in resistance even as I collapse under the weight of adrenaline and fury.
When the haze lifts, I’m in the locker corridor, slammed up against a wall like a misbehaving slave-pit dog.
A security guard with a data-pad glares up at me like I’ve just pissed on his ancestors. “You’re done,” he spits. “Indefinite ban. No fights. No re-entry. You’re lucky we’re not reporting you to the local enforcers.”
“Report me,” I mutter through a split lip. “Maybe they’ll kill me.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he snarls, jabbing a finger at my chest. “You’re a danger in the pit. We don’t need another casualty. One more step through that hatch and we shoot first, question later. Got it?”
I nod once. Just enough to make him back off.
They toss my jacket at my feet. My boots. My nameplate—burnt and cracked.
I don’t pick it up.
By the time I make it back to the surface, the cliffs are drowned in night. No moon. Just the shimmer of Akura’s rings far above, casting ghost-light on the rocks.
The wind is warm. The silence is colder.
I walk. Barely feel the weight of each step. My body’s wrecked—ribs aching, knuckles raw, shoulder seared from the shock rod. There’s a deep gash under my eye that leaks slowly, trailing down to my jaw like a tear.
