Page 4 of Grumpy Alien Boss

"Harvard needs to up its game then." The words come out with more growl than I intend.

A musical laugh draws my attention. Olivia. The name blazes through my mind like wildfire. Her green eyes sparkle with barely contained excitement as she straps on her vest. My blood burns hotter at the sight of her clever fingers checking the sensor points.

The warrior in me recognizes a kindred spirit. She has the heart of a fighter beneath that professional facade. The way she stands, balanced on those ridiculously repaired heels, speaks of someone who refuses to back down.

I force myself to look away before my glamour slips. Before my true form emerges in response to the primal attraction coursing through my veins. I am Vakutan. We take what we want.

But not today. Not here. I have a cover to maintain.

"When the lights dim, begin." My voice remains steady despite the fire racing through my blood. "May the best warrior win."

I settle into my chair, watching the monitors as the lights dim in the arena below. The candidates scatter like frightened prey. All except one.

Olivia takes a defensive position behind a column, checking angles and sightlines. Smart. My claws flex beneath the glamour as I pull up her file on my tablet.

"Paris, Illinois?" The town's so small it barely registers on maps. Yet she moves like someone who's seen combat.

On screen, she drops and rolls, taking out two opponents with precise shots to their chest sensors. No wasted motion. No panic. Just clean, efficient strikes.

The Harvard grad tries to rally others against her.

"Get the redhead!"

"Wrong move." I grin as Olivia uses their grouped formation against them, picking them off one by one.

My scales ripple with appreciation as she claims victory. Not a single life lost. The other candidates sprawl around her, vests blinking in defeat. She stands tall despite that broken heel, laser tag gun held ready.

Nothing in her background explains this prowess. Student council president. Town laser tag champion. Wait...

"Computer, pull up Paris Laser Arena records."

Five consecutive years as champion. Started competing at age twelve. Over three hundred documented victories.

"Fascinating." I lean closer to the monitor where she's helping defeated opponents to their feet. Such deadly accuracy wrapped in professional silk and...

"And big..." My eyes drift to where she's adjusted her blouse. "Skills."

I clear my throat, forcing my gaze back to her impressive stats. This small town warrior might be exactly what Veritas needs.

The remaining candidates circle Olivia like vultures. My claws itch to intervene as they coordinate their attack. Her skill proves insufficient against sheer numbers as sensor after sensor goes dark.

"Sorry, small town." Harvard's smirk makes me want to reveal my true form and show him what real fear looks like.

The moment Olivia's eliminated, they turn on each other with savage intensity. Pathetic. None of them grasp the point of this exercise.

Movement catches my eye. Olivia slips away while the others battle, her shoulders slumped in defeat. The scent of salt hits my nostrils - tears.

No. She can't leave.

"No!"

I bolt for the stairwell, ripping open the door. The elevator would take too long. Without hesitation, I vault over the railing, plummeting forty stories. The glamour strains to contain my true form as I fall.

Impact. The marble floor splinters beneath my feet. No time to care about property damage.

I burst through the lobby doors just as Olivia reaches for the bus handle.

"Stop!"

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