Page 40 of Alien Prince

Mother said to wait until he collects me, so it must be a drill right? It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve run realistic scenarios, but the explosions…

Something about their sudden sounding makes me feel uneasy…

The mole and the fighting outside can’t be related, surely…

There is a final shot and then there is silence.

I count to ten, then again, waiting for Raphael to unlock my door and burst in with his sly grin and tell me to get up off my ass.

The door clicks, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He is here, my brother…

Only when the door opens, I don’t see my brother’s kind dark eyes or his familiar smile.

Instead I see a bounty of blue arms and hands and dark eyes that pin me where I sit like a fly caught in a web.

It’s just Boomer.

“Get up,” he grunts, his tone harsher than it usually is.

I’ve known Boomer practically my entire life, though I don’t interact with him as much as my brothers, being as he is pivotal to their daily lives.

Father told me I’d be transitioning to his guardianship soon enough, but I hadn’t heard anything in awhile and didn’t want to push the matter.

As much as I wanted my family to see me as more than a spoiled princess, I also have to admit the anonymity can be quite the respite.

There is a freedom that comes from not having any expectations thrust upon you, and Boomer…

At least from the stories my brother’s have told, he is a bit of a hardass because he has quite high expectations for them.

Then again, they are much more suited for this throne than I am, so I suppose that’s just.

I blink, trying to process everything. Boomer doesn’t bark at me like my mother, or yell at me to get myself together. He only walks over to me slowly, his gaze solid.

“We need to move,” he says, his voice slightly calmer.

“Raphael is supposed to get me,” I say, unsure why it matters, but my heart says it does.

Details are everything.

“Raphael and your parents have been detained.” He says.

He kneels before me, all six arms on full display. Damn, it's a sight. Two on his knees, two on his hips, one reaching out, and one ready to strike. Classic Boomer, looking like he could hug you or throttle you in the same breath. Impressive and terrifying all at once.

“Detained?” I ask, not wanting him to elaborate, but also feeling a morbid curiosity as to who would be powerful enough to detain three celestials?

Certainly not the rebels. They’re just anarchists, Raphael says. They have no actual power or force.

“Get up,” his voice is softer now, and it makes me feel somewhat better.

My mother’s words echo in my brain, about the mole.

Is he the one responsible for this? The spy?

Part of me wants to admit to Boomer her declaration, but there is another part of me that knows I shouldn’t.

I don’t know who I can trust, really. Though I want to believe I can trust him.

Ky trusts him. Eros trusts him. Raphael trusts him.

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