Page 50 of Stalker

"You're going to confess. To everything. The IHC and Alliance authorities will handle your punishment." My teeth flash in a mirthless grin. "Maryse will be hurt when she learns the truth, but at least she'll be able to visit her father in prison."

"I can make you rich beyond your dreams." Daniels's voice takes on an oily smoothness. "Think about it - with your strength and my connections, we could rule this sector together."

My lip curls. "Not interested."

"Political power then. I can get you appointed as security chief. Full diplomatic immunity."

"The answer is still no."

"Fine. You want Maryse? Take her. She's yours - completely. I'll even sign over her trust fund."

The bone spurs in my arms lengthen of their own accord, piercing through the remains of the chauffeur's uniform. "You'd sell out your own daughter?"

"She's young, pretty. Good breeding stock for whatever twisted offspring you Reapers produce."

My claws dig into the steering wheel, leaving deep gouges in the synthetic leather. "You disgust me."

"Come now, be reasonable-"

"Your evil has finally caught up with you, Daniels. Nothing will change that."

"But I'm not evil, you simpleton." His face twists into a snarl. "Those women I traffic? They're nothing. Street trash who would've ended up dead in some gutter, or hooked on nova dust, or rotting in prison. I give them purpose - homes, food, protection. They should thank me."

The worst part isn't his words. It's the utter conviction in his eyes as he speaks them. He truly believes his own lies, has constructed an entire mythology where he's the hero instead of the monster.

My stomach churns. This is the man who raised Maryse, who shaped her earliest years. Yet somehow she grew up kind and decent despite his influence.

"How could someone like you produce a being as pure-hearted and good as Maryse?" The words tear from my throat, rough with disgust.

Daniels settles back in his seat, smoothing his uniform. His lips curl into a patronizing smile that makes my claws itch. "The galaxy needs men like me to protect delicate flowers like my daughter. Some people simply can't handle harsh realities. That's why we need a firm hand to guide them."

"You mean control them."

"Call it what you will." He waves dismissively. "Some people are simply better than others. It's the natural order of things."

The steering wheel creaks under my grip. My bone spurs slice deeper into the synthetic leather.

"That's why Earth is a paradise with an empire that spreads among the stars." His gray eyes glitter with malice. "While you Reapers are scattered to the wind with no homeworld, no culture, and no value."

My mother's face flashes through my mind - her kind eyes, her gentle smile as she tucked me in at night. The way she worked double shifts at the docks to give me a better life. The pride in her voice when I learned to read.

No culture? No value?

The songs of my people echo in my soul, millennium of history carried in their haunting melodies. The sacred dances that celebrate life even in the darkest times. The stories passed down through generations of how we survived when our world was destroyed.

But arguing with Daniels would be pointless. He's too convinced of his own superiority to ever see the truth.

Blue strobes flash at the hangar entrance. Two security cruisers zoom in, their sirens wailing. Daniels seizes his chance, hurling himself through the open door. His scream echoes off the metal walls as he hits the concrete with a sickening crack. He's still moving, alive but hurt.

"Damn it!" I slam the accelerator. The limo rockets forward, scraping paint off one of the patrol cars as I squeeze past.

The security vehicles wheel around in pursuit, their engines whining. Red warning lights strobe across my dashboard as I push the limo past its safety limits. The steering yoke bucks in my hands while I weave between cargo containers.

A burst of plasma fire sizzles past my window. These officers aren't playing around.

I dive into the main traffic lanes, cutting across three tiers of vehicles. Horns blare. A cargo hauler swerves to avoid me, clipping one of my pursuers. The patrol car spins out but stays airborne.

The second cruiser sticks to my tail as I thread through maintenance corridors barely wide enough for the limo. Sparks shower from the walls where my vehicle scrapes against them.

---