Page 37 of Tamed By the Alien Warlord
I turn to leave, still high on adrenaline, still hot with fury—and freeze.
Jasmine is standing in the doorway.
She’s holding a gun.
My sister. My blood.
Hair still disheveled from the medbay. Lab coat slipping from one shoulder. But her stance is steady. Too steady.
The pistol in her hand is pointed at my chest.
“Jasmine?” I whisper.
Her lips barely move. “Don’t call me that.”
My stomach twists. “It’s me. Georgia.”
“I know who you are.”
I step forward, slowly. “You’re safe now. We got you out. You were strapped to a table, remember? They were?—”
“I remember everything.” Her voice cuts sharp and flat.
I stop cold. The air between us feels like a blade’s edge.
“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” I ask, barely breathing.
“You left me,” she says. “You let them take me.”
“No,” I whisper. “No, I never would’ve?—”
“You gave them footage. You played your stories. You let them know where I was.”
My heart cracks. “I didn’t know they’d come after you. I didn’t know they’d?—”
“But they did,” she says. “And you were too busy falling into bed with your alien slaver to notice.”
The pistol doesn’t waver.
I can’t move. Can’t speak. Only watch my sister, broken and remade by pain, standing between me and the only way out.
And I know, if I take another step, she’ll pull the trigger.
CHAPTER 17
LANZ
The cruiser reeks of death and heat discharge. My boots crunch over the bodies of the fallen—guards, mercs, Combine loyalists. I’ve lost count. Doesn’t matter. All I care about now is Nakamura’s scent. He’s close.
“Push forward,” I snarl.
Reapers fall in behind me, stepping over wreckage with the quiet confidence of predators. Their weapons drip blood. Faces smeared with soot and splatter. Gash has a fresh cut across his cheek, but he grins like he’s at a feast.
“Captain,” he pants, “you want the rest of his crew dead or begging?”
“Dead,” I answer without looking back. “Leave begging for the auction block.”
We hit a squad near the engineering bay. They don’t even get a shot off.
