Page 27 of Pact with the Alien Devil

Korvan moved toward the console, his attention focused on Krenis. I stayed where I was, my pulse still racing.

“If you’re lying—” Korvan began.

The world exploded.

The bunker entrance blew inward in a deafening roar of metal and concrete. The shock wave threw me forward. Dust and debris filled the air.

“Go!” Krenis screamed, already bolting for a back exit. He made it three steps before a plasma bolt cut through the haze, striking him mid-chest. He crumpled.

Korvan moved with inhuman speed, grabbing me and pulling me behind an overturned metal table as more shots sizzled through the air. Four heavily armed mercenaries pushed through the ruined doorway, their faces hidden behind tactical masks.

I drew my blaster, trying to control my breathing, to focus. Korvan pressed against my side, his body shielding me.

“Stay close,” he ordered, voice steady despite the chaos. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

More mercs poured through the entrance. Whoever they were, they’d come prepared. And they’d known exactly where to find us.

The traitor’s reach felt closer than ever.

KORVAN

Ipressed my back against Iria’s, counting heartbeats between plasma bursts. Six mercenaries, tactical formation, military-grade weapons. This wasn’t a random attack or local thugs. These killers came prepared.

“Any brilliant ideas?” Iria asked, her shoulder blades firm against mine.

The table we’d overturned provided minimal cover. Each new volley of blaster fire chipped away at our barrier. Metal fragments scattered across the floor with every hit. The air burned with ozone and scorched metal.

“You take left, I take right?” she suggested, already adjusting her grip on her blaster.

I shook my head. “They’re waiting for that. Six against two—conventional tactics won’t work.”

A bolt struck dangerously close, forcing us lower.

“Well, I’m open to unconventional ones,” Iria muttered.

I analyzed the firing pattern, the positions I could make out through the dust and smoke. Three on the far side, two flanking, one positioned higher for better angles. They’d set up a standard crossfire, expecting us to either make a break for the exit or try to pick them off one by one.

“Cover me,” I said, tightening the weapon strap across my chest. “I’ll circle around the right side. When you see me engage, take the two on the left. Don’t hesitate.”

Iria nodded, pulling a second blaster from her boot. “Go.”

I rolled from behind our cover, drawing fire immediately. Iria responded with rapid shots, forcing the mercenaries to duck. My Vinduthi reflexes gave me the edge as I sprinted toward a fallen support beam, sliding beneath it and coming up firing. The first merc never saw me. The second barely turned before my blade caught him across the throat.

Across the room, Iria held her own better than most trained fighters would. Her shots weren’t precise like military training would produce—they were intuitive, unpredictable. One mercenary dropped, clutching his shoulder. Another scrambled for new cover after she’d destroyed his position.

As I dispatched the third target, I caught a flicker of movement. A small metal sphere rolled across the floor—grenade.

I moved without thought, diving toward Iria and tackling her to the ground as the explosion ripped through the bunker. The concussive force slammed into my back. I curled my body around hers, shielding her from the shrapnel with my larger frame. Pain lanced through my shoulder, but I registered it as minor—my body would heal.

When the dust settled, the ringing in my ears faded enough to recognize the absence of blaster fire. One heartbeat. Two. Silence stretched between us.

Iria lay beneath me, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hair had come loose from its tie, fanning out against the metal floor. Her eyes met mine, wider than usual, searching my face with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

“You really enjoy throwing yourself on top of me, don’t you?” she asked, her mouth quirking up at one corner.

“You make it difficult not to,” I replied, surprised by the softness in my own voice.

I became acutely aware of every point where our bodies connected—my arms braced on either side of her head, her knee pressed against my thigh, the heat of her radiating through both our clothes. The mission, the mercenaries, the data chip—all of it fell away for just a moment.

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