Page 4 of Pact with the Alien Devil

My name on his lips sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I pushed the feeling aside, focusing on survival.

“And if I refuse?”

His expression hardened. “Then you join your friend over there. Though his fate,” he glanced toward Miggs, “will be considerably less pleasant than yours.”

As if on cue, Miggs let out a pained cry.

“Fine,” I said, holding out the package. “One month. But I keep my ship, and when this is over, I walk away clean. No debts, no bounties, no Vinduthi shadows following me across the galaxy.”

Korvan took the package, his fingers brushing against mine. Even through that brief contact, I felt the unnatural warmth of his skin. The touch lingered, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes that I couldn’t quite identify.

“Agreed,” he said. “Though I suspect you may find working for the Fangs more... rewarding than you expect.”

Something in his tone made my pulse quicken. I blamed it on the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

“Don’t count on it,” I muttered.

He turned to his soldiers. “Take this one,” he nodded toward Miggs, “to Alkard. He’ll want to know who hired him.”

“And me?” I asked.

Korvan’s gaze returned to mine, assessing. “You’ll come with me.”

KORVAN

Imarched the human through the back hallway of the Dead Man’s Dock, my hand firm on her upper arm but not crushing. Alkard taught me the fine line between showing strength and causing unnecessary harm. Most humans broke too easily.

This one—Iria Jann—hadn’t broken yet.

The private room waited at the end of a narrow corridor lined with pipes that hissed with steam. The bar owner had cleared out when my men arrived. Smart decision. The door slid open at my approach, revealing a small, stark space with metal walls and a single overhead light. A security bulb, cheap and harsh, cast everyone’s face in unflattering angles.

“Sit,” I ordered, releasing her arm and gesturing to one of the two chairs at the small metal table.

She rubbed her arm where I’d gripped it. “Careful with the merchandise. I bruise easily.”

I said nothing, placing the stolen package between us on the table. A blue glow pulsed through the thin seam of the container, bathing our faces in cool light. Alliance tech—military grade weapons systems with neural interface capabilities. The kindthat gave even a weak, untrained human the reflexes of a combat veteran.

“You have no idea what you were carrying,” I said.

Iria leaned back in her chair, her body language deceptively relaxed, but I caught the subtle tension in her neck, and the way her eyes darted toward the exit.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Neural interface targeting systems. Military grade. With this,” I tapped the box, “even a child could operate heavy weaponry with deadly precision.”

“No wonder everyone wants it.” Her fingers drummed against the tabletop. “Look, I told you—I’m just the delivery person.”

“You’re a smuggler,” I corrected. “Iria Jann, captain of theStarfall. Known for slipping past security grids and blockades without detection.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Been checking up on me?”

“The Vinduthi make it a point to know every operator on our territory.”

“And by ‘territory,’ you mean half of Thodos Station?” She crossed her arms. “I wasn’t aware I needed Vinduthi permission to make deliveries here.”

“When the delivery involves tech stolen from one of our arranged purchases, you do.” I traced one of the orange markings on my arm, a habit when thinking. “Who put you in contact with Miggs?”

“Some guy named Lenz. Contact of a contact. Said it was a simple job—pick up from a shuttle bay on the Merchant level, drop at the Dock. Half payment up front, half on delivery.”

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