Page 17 of Alien Boss. Human Pet

He ignores my question and holds up an iron bar, the metal gleaming under the harsh office lights. “Let’s start with something simple. Can you bend this?”

He drops it on the floor in front of me with a clatter that makes me flinch. I stare at it, then up at him, blinking. “Uh… no? I don’t go to the gym or whatever.”

“With yourmind,” Winn clarifies, tapping his temple. “Focus. Move it.”

“You’re joking, right?”

He tilts his head, the red light of his cybernetic eye flickering as he studies me. “Not at all. The human mind is a powerful tool. We’re here to determine just how powerfulyoursis.”

I glance around the room, but the other scientists are watching me with expectant expressions, like I’m about to perform a magic trick. “Yeah, okay, sure. Let me just wiggle my nose like Samantha fromBewitchedand—oh, wait, nothing’s happening. Must’ve left my telekinesis at home.”

Winn lets out a delighted laugh, clapping his hands together. “Oh, she’sfeisty! I like her.” He steps closer, crouching slightly so we’re eye level. “But perhaps we’re starting too advanced.Let’s try something simpler. Look into my mind and tell me what you see.”

I blink at him, then burst out laughing. “I’mterrifiedto look into your mind.”

The other scientists chuckle, and even Winn grins, though there’s a flash of something—disappointment? Frustration?—in his expression. “Fair enough,” he says, straightening up. “Perhaps we should begin with the most basic tests first. No need to overwhelm you.”

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Can’t wait.” But Winn’s already bustling over to a table cluttered with strange devices, muttering to himself as he prepares… whatever comes next.Don’t succeed.Whatever that means, I’m just hoping it doesn’t involve bending metal bars or reading minds.

Doctor Winn steps closer, holding a sleek compad in his hand. The device looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, all glowing edges and smooth, alien lines. He’s grinning at me like a kid about to reveal a magic trick.

“Ms. Christian, this compad has been programmed to display a series of random images,” he says, his voice dripping with theatricality. “I’ll hold it so only I can see the screen, and you’ll guess what’s displayed. Simple, yes?”

I shrug. “Sure. Whatever. But don’t blame me if I’m terrible at this. I’m not exactly the ‘guess the picture’ type.”

“We’ll see,” he says, his cybernetic eye whirring softly as it focuses on me. I’m half-convinced it’s going to pop out of his head and float around the room. He tilts the compad so I can’t see it and nods. “Begin.”

I snort internally. Raekon’s warning echoes in my head.Don’t succeed.Easy. I’m not psychic. This is going to be a cakewalk.

The first image pops into my head—a duck. Random, sure, but whatever. “Uh… a duck?” I say, dragging out the words like I’m not even trying.

Winn’s eye widens, and the glowing red light inside it flares brighter. “Correct,” he says, his tone somewhere between impressed and unnerved. “Proceed.”

Wait, what? I blink at him. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all.” He taps the compad, and the next image comes to me immediately—a toaster. No way. Aliens don’t have toasters. That’s too… human. Too mundane.

“A toaster,” I say with zero confidence.

His eye practically explodes with light. “Correct again.” He’s staring at me like I’ve just grown a second head.

My stomach drops. This can’t be happening. I’mguessing. There’s no way I’m actually seeing these images in my head. Right?

“Go again,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost wary.

The next image hits me—a guitar. I say it. Correct. Again. A tree. Correct. A spaceship. Correct.

My heart’s pounding now. This isn’t normal. This isn’tpossible. I’m not some psychic freak. I’m just… me. Willow. The girl who barely survived algebra.

“Are you toying with me, Ms. Christian?” Winn asks, his tone sharp, his cybernetic eye telescoping out slightly as if trying to get a better look at me. “Because if you’re intentionally failing now, I’d appreciate the candor.”

I freeze. “Failing? I’m not failing. I’m just… not very good at this.”

“You were flawless until a moment ago,” he snaps, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Now suddenly you’rewrongfour times in a row? Unlikely.”

“Guess I’m just inconsistent,” I say, crossing my arms and trying to look as clueless as possible.

Winn leans in, his face too close for comfort. “Ms. Christian, if you’re holding back, you’re only delaying the inevitable. We’ll find out what you’re capable of, one way or another.”

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