Page 105 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

The words stick in my throat, unspoken as I stalk back to my desk. But from Vazor’s expression, he hears them anyway.

“There’s more about these hunters you need to know.” His voice drops lower, almost gentle. Like he’s softening a blow.

My hands clench on the desk. “Tell me.”

“They hunt in groups of three. Icecaix, Starcaix, and firelord working as one. An alliance Lady Qarine forged herself.”

The temperature plummets as understanding hits. Three races. Three types of magic. The perfect hunting party.

“The Ice Court assassin leading her favored team...” He pauses, and heat shimmers around him. “She wears armor made from our kind.”

“Firelord scales?”

“Harvested while the donor still lived.” His voice roughens. “Only fresh-taken scales keep their protection against iron and flame.”

My stomach turns as ice coats the desk in thickening layers.

Everything I’ve worked for, everything I must sacrifice—it all balances on the edge of a blade.

“The situation is even worse.” Vazor draws a folded paper from his coat. Even through my growing frost, I can feel the heat radiating from him as he hands it to me. “Qarine gave them this.”

My frozen fingers struggle to unfold the document. When I see what it contains, my breath catches. A map, covered in meticulous annotations showing Caix migration patterns to Earth.

Every known branch of the royal bloodline is marked in precise detail.

“She had these records all along?”

“And more.” His scales dim, a tell I’ve learned means grave news. “Her assassins have lists of suspected bloodline carriers in major Earth cities. They’re working systematically through human populations.”

The map crumples in my grip. “How many?”

“Seven confirmed kills.” His gaze holds mine, steady and dark. “Though one hunter team was destroyed when their target’s power manifested unexpectedly.”

Hope flares, sharp and bright. “The target?”

“Eliminated by another team shortly after.” He watches me, reading too much in my reaction as that hope gutters out. “But that’s not what concerns me most. One of the hunter teams was spotted near the Trasqo Market.”

My magic surges, wild and desperate, as I think of Lara and Izzy’s scent still lingering in the market.

Too close. They’re getting too close.

“When?” The word comes out rough, like it’s been dragged over broken ice.

“Three days ago.” Vazor rises, his movements careful, controlled. Like approaching a wounded predator. “Ivrael, if they track the sisters’ passage through the market?—”

“They won’t.” But I remember that first day—Lara’s scent of honey and stardust and warmth. If I could sense her heritage so clearly, how long before these hunters catch the same trail?

“You can’t be certain.” His voice gentles, which somehow makes it worse. “These aren’t ordinary assassins. The combination of Ice, Star, and firelord working together—it amplifies their abilities. And with Qarine’s resources...”

“What else has she given them?”

“Besides the maps, details of every known bloodline branch, tracking crystals attuned to royal signatures, and enough gold to buy loyalty across three realms?” He pauses, letting that sink in. “She’s using methods even Jonyk might hesitate to employ.”

The image of a skinned firelord flashes through my mind.

When the image is replaced by one of Lara, dead at an assassin’s hand, my control splinters completely. Ice explodes across the ceiling in deadly stalactites, and Vazor takes a measured step back as my magic surges and ripples like a living thing.

I pull my attention to the map crushed in my grip. The annotations swim before my eyes—centuries of migration patterns, bloodlines scattered like stars across Earth’s cities. If I can decipher their search pattern...

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