Page 7 of Pact with the Alien Devil

She returned to reading, her finger tracing down the screen. “And housing? It says I’ll be provided accommodation on Thodos.”

“You’ll stay at a Fang safehouse. More secure than your ship’s docking bay.”

“I sleep on my ship.”

“Not for the next month, you don’t.” I leaned forward. “If you’re working for the Fangs, you’ll be a target for our rivals. The safehouse offers protection.”

She frowned. “I’ve managed to stay alive this long without Vinduthi protection.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” I gestured to our surroundings. “One botched delivery away from execution?”

Her expression darkened, but she didn’t argue the point. Instead, she returned to the contract, making a small sound ofdispleasure. “This clause about ‘reasonable force’—what exactly does that mean?”

“It means that if you attempt to flee before fulfilling your obligations, I’m authorized to retrieve you.”

“Retrieve,” she repeated flatly. “Like lost property?”

“Like a valuable asset.” I kept my tone flat. “One month, Iria Jann. Serve it well, and you walk away with your debts cleared and your freedom intact.”

She stared at me across the table, measuring my words against the threat I represented. I waited, patient. Humans often needed time to process their options, even when the choice was clear.

“What guarantee do I have that you’ll honor your end?” she asked finally.

“The Vinduthi keep their word. It’s a matter of honor.”

“Honor doesn’t mean much in the smuggling business.”

“Which is why you’re in this situation to begin with.” I bared my teeth in what might have passed for a smile. “But unlike your previous employers, when I make a promise, I keep it.”

She held my gaze, searching for deception. I allowed the scrutiny. Let her look. Let her see the truth of my words. The Vinduthi might be many things—violent, dangerous, feared—but we valued our reputation. A Vinduthi who broke their word became outcast, shunned by their own kind.

“Fine,” she said at last. “One month. But I want my ship secured at a private dock, not the public bays.”

“Agreed.”

“And I want access to it. Regular maintenance checks.”

“Supervised access,” I countered. “Twice weekly.”

Her mouth twisted, but she nodded. “Supervised, then.”

I reached across the table, palm up. “Do we have a deal?”

She hesitated only a moment before placing her smaller hand in mine. The contact sent an unexpected jolt through myarm. Her skin felt cool against mine—Vinduthi ran hotter than humans—and surprisingly soft for one who worked with her hands.

“Deal,” she said. “But if you or your men lay a hand on my ship without permission, all bets are off.”

I closed my fingers around hers, careful not to grip too tightly. “Understood.”

Her eyes dropped to our joined hands, and I wondered if she felt the same strange current that I did. Unlikely. Humans rarely responded to Vinduthi physiology that way.

My communicator buzzed.

“Prisoner secure?” the message read.

“Affirmative,” I replied. “Alkard will want to interrogate him personally.”

“Understood. I’ll prepare the holding cell.”

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