Page 32 of Claimed By the Alien Warlord

Before he can finish, Gary moves. He’s on Hoag in an instant, his massive hand grabbing the front of the man’s shirt and lifting him clean off the ground. Hoag’s eyes widen, his legs kicking uselessly in the air.

“Insult Reily again,” Gary growls, his voice so low it’s almost a vibration, “and it will be the last thing you ever do. Threaten me at your peril. The dam is not happening.”

He drops Hoag back into his chair with a thud, and the mayor gasps, clutching at his chest like he’s been sucker-punched.

“That dam is going to happen, Irons!” Hoag shouts as we head for the door, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s toolate to stop it! I’ll find someone else, someone smarter than you to invest!”

Gary doesn’t even bother looking back. He takes my hand in his, his grip firm but gentle, and leads me out of the office. The door slams shut behind us, muffling Hoag’s tirade.

“Let us depart,” Gary says, his tone clipped but calm. “That man makes my scales crawl.”

I can’t help but grin as we walk down the hall, my hand still in his. “Makes mine crawl too,” I say. “But I think you handled that pretty well…Master.”

He looks down at me, his red eyes glinting with something I can’t quite place. “Don’t push your luck, Reily.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say with a wink, and we step out into the sunlight, leaving the chaos of Boss Hoag’s office behind.

Gary’s car pulls into the parking lot of Dick’s Insider Trading Club, the tires crunching over gravel. The place is lit up like a neon beacon, and I can already hear the faint thrum of classic rock leaking through the walls. Gary opens my door for me, his hand lingering on my lower back as we step inside. The air smells like cheap beer, fried food, and wood polish.

Clem and Seabus are already at a corner table, mugs of beer in hand. Susan’s there too, her laptop open and a notebook sprawled out next to it. She’s scribbling something furiously, her brow furrowed in concentration. She looks up as we approach, her face lighting up with a grin that’s half mischief, half relief.

“About time you two showed up,” Susan says, snapping her laptop shut. “We’ve got intel.”

Gary slides into the booth beside me, his massive frame taking up most of the space. Clem raises his beer in a mock toast.

“Took you long enough, Irons. You’ve been holding out on us. Got yourself a new partner in crime here?” Clem’s eyes flick to me, and I roll mine.

“Clem, focus,” I say, leaning forward. “What’s going on with Hoag and those bikers?”

Clem takes a long pull from his beer, smirking like he’s about to drop the juiciest gossip of the century. “You know me, Reily. I’m a man of many talents. One of those talents is poker. And part of poker is not just playing your hand—it’s playing the man across the table.”

Seabus nods enthusiastically, his jowls jiggling. “Clem’s the best damn poker player in Coldwater. Won twenty bucks off me last week.”

“And I let you win that one,” Clem shoots back, winking at Seabus before turning serious. “Anyway, point is, I had a sit-down with Hoag earlier today. Wanted to see if I could shake some loose change out of his pockets for the protest fund. And guess who was there? That Jack fella, leader of Cold Slither.”

I exchange a glance with Gary, who’s sitting stiffly beside me. His jaw is clenched, his red eyes fixed on Clem. He’s already told me about the Grolgath, but we can’t exactly spill that to everyone just yet.

“What about him?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.

Clem leans in, lowering his voice like he’s about to reveal state secrets. “The man didn’t blink. Not once. Twenty damn minutes in Hoag’s office, and I’m staring at him the whole time. Not a single blink.”

Seabus frowns, scratching his head. “Maybe you blinked at the same time he did. Like, synchronized or something.”

Clem gives Seabus a look that could melt steel. “Every time? Perfectly synchronized? Did you switch brains with Boris and Barfbag or something?”

Susan snorts, covering her mouth with her hand. “Clem’s not exaggerating. I’ve been digging into Cold Slither, and there’s something off about them. No records, no history. It’s like they just appeared out of thin air.”

Gary’s voice cuts through the chatter like a knife. “They’re dangerous. Whatever they are, they’re not what they seem.”

Clem raises an eyebrow. “You saying they’re aliens or something?”

Gary doesn’t flinch. “I’m saying they’re not human.”

The table falls silent for a moment, the weight of Gary’s words settling over us. Susan’s the first to break the tension. “So, what do we do? Sit around and wait for them to make the next move?”

“No,” Gary says firmly. “We go to them. Their roadhouse is on the outskirts of town. We scout it, gather intel, and figure out what they’re up to.”

Clem slams his beer down on the table. “Count me in. Me and Seabus are hunters. We can sneak up better than anyone.”

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