Page 8 of The Alien's Captive Bride

The leader chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. “Feisty one, aren’t you? Good. The buyers like a bit of spirit. Makes breaking you more satisfying.”

“Restrain her!”

Gruk and Freb, now wary of her strength, approached from opposite sides. Venus swung the wrench threateningly, but in the confined space of the cargo hold, she had nowhere to retreat. A sudden lurch of the ship threw her off balance, and Gruk seized the opportunity to knock the wrench from her hand.

The fight that followed was brutal and swift. Despite Venus’s best efforts, she was overpowered by the three men. They pinned her to the ground, Freb’s meaty hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her shouts.

“Not so tough now, are ya?” Gruk sneered, his split lip still oozing blood.

The leader crouched beside Venus, his eyes roving over her body in a way that made her skin crawl. “You know,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “damaged goods fetch a lower price, but some buyers prefer their purchases... broken in.”

Venus’s blood ran cold as the implications of his words sank in. She renewed her struggles, but the men’s grips only tightened.

The leader reached out, his calloused hand sliding along Venus’s arm. “Maybe we should give our merchandise a little test run, eh, boys?”

Freb and Gruk exchanged uneasy glances, but neither moved to stop their leader. Venus felt a wave of panic rising in her chest, threatening to overwhelm her. But beneath the fear, a cold fury began to build.

As the leader’s hand moved to the zipper of her dress, Venus made her move. She went limp suddenly, causing Freb and Gruk to loosen their hold in surprise. In that split second, Venus twisted violently, freeing her right arm.

She didn’t hesitate. Her fist connected with the leader’s throat in a vicious strike, a move she’d learned in her self-defense classes but never thought she’d have to use. The man reeled back, choking and gasping.

Venus took advantage of the chaos to slam her head back into Freb’s nose. There was a sickening crunch, and his grip on her loosened as he howled in pain.

Rolling away from her captors, Venus scrambled to her feet. Her eyes darted around frantically, searching for a weapon, an escape route, anything. Her gaze landed on a jagged piece of metal protruding from a damaged wall panel.

Gruk lunged at her, but Venus was quicker. She dodged his grasp and in one fluid motion, wrenched the metal shard free. She brandished it like a knife, her chest heaving as she faced her attackers.

“Try that again,” she spat, her voice shaking with rage and adrenaline, “and I’ll make sure you never touch anyone ever again.”

The three men, nursing various injuries, regarded her warily. The dynamic had shifted. They’d underestimated her once; they wouldn’t make that mistake again.

The leader, his voice still hoarse from Venus’s strike, growled, “Throw her in the holding cell. And for fuck’s sake, make sure she’s properly restrained this time.”

As Gruk and Freb moved to obey, Venus tensed for another fight. But she knew her odds of overpowering all three of them again were slim. Her mind raced, calculating her next move.

She might have lost this round, but Venus was far from defeated. As they dragged her toward the holding cell, her grip never loosened on her makeshift weapon. She’d be ready for the next opportunity, no matter how small.

After all, she thought grimly, she was Venus Arison. Daughter of the President, future princess of Tharvis, and awoman who refused to be a victim. Whatever these men had planned, they were in for one hell of a fight.

FOUR

The war room pulsed with an electric tension, its air thick with the acrid scent of fear and determination. Azlun stood before the massive holographic display, his fingers digging into his palms as he stared at the pulsing red dot that represented Venus. The dot seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of his failure to protect her.

Garek’s voice cut through the hum of machinery and urgent whispers. “Your Highness, we’ve pinpointed her location.” His fingers danced across the holographic controls, zooming in on a section of Korthar’s surface. The image resolved into a sprawling underground network, a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers. “The market’s here, on the eastern side, buried beneath the city.”

Azlun leaned in, his eyes tracing every detail of the map. “Show me the security measures,” he commanded, his voice tight with barely contained fury.

Dravek stepped forward, his muscular frame casting a shadow over the hologram. “It’s not pretty,” he growled, manipulating the image to highlight various points. “Guards here, here, and here. Automated security systems throughout. And that’s just what we know about.”

Azlun’s jaw clenched. In his mind’s eye, he saw Venus, her fierce spirit dimmed by captivity, waiting for a rescue that might never come. The image sent a surge of rage through him, hot and potent. “I don’t care how many guards they have,” he snarled. “I’m getting her out.”

Amari’s cool voice cut through his anger. “Azlun, you need to think clearly. Charging in there like an enraged Tharvian bull will only get you both killed.” She fixed him with a piercing stare. “Remember who you are. You’re not just a warrior; you’re a diplomat. Use that.”

Azlun took a deep breath, forcing the rage down. Amari was right. He couldn’t let his emotions control him, not when Venus’s life was at stake. “You’re right,” he admitted. “What’s our best approach?”

Garek pulled up a new set of schematics. “We’ve set up an extraction point here on the far western side of the planet.” A green dot appeared on the map, a beacon of hope in the sea of danger. “It’s our only safe exit, but...”

“But it’s on the other side of the planet from the market,” Azlun finished, the implications sinking in. “We’ll have to cross hostile territory to reach it.”

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