Page 39 of Claimed By the Alien Assassin
Then—crack. Splintered wood. A shout behind us.
We whirl. A colonist—bare-faced, aghast, eyes caught between worship and horror at my unmasked form. My image inducer flickers, fails.
Four eyes, cobalt scales, claws—monster’s birthright.
He screams—not command, not alarm—but pure terror.
He’s not the enemy. He’s us.
One step backward.
Another colonist appears, child at her side; they shriek and scramble. The night fractures.
My heart seizes. I raise my hands, voice raw in their language: “Stand down! I’m?—”
But there’s no undoing it now.
Flames reflect off my scales. My breath hitches.
Movement behind me: Josie. Her presence is a tether. She leaps in front of me, arms wide.
“It’s okay. We’re one of you,” she says, voice calm, fierce. “He’s Dayn. He’s saved us.”
The colonist stumbles, still shaking.
I close my eyes, shoulder trembling, eyes still burning hot.
I swallow. There’s no hiding in darkness anymore—not tonight.
But for the first time, I stand unmasked in rebellion, monster and protector, flesh and steel all at once.
Dawn cracks the sky like a promise—and a warning. I'm perched in the shadow of a gantry overlooking the main square, the place I’ve watched silently for weeks. Now it thrums with hushed voices rippling like currents, swinging between awe and alarm.
“He’s one of them,” someone whispers behind me. The words clamp like steel at my ribs.
I press back against cold metal, neck taut, claws flexing against empty gloves. I’m steel forged into flesh, and I'm exposed.
Josie strides into the square with nothing but that fierce determination blazing in her eyes—like she's carrying the sun on her tongue. The crowd’s a sea of anxious faces: hopeful, fearful, some resigned. I can taste the tension—a mix of sweat, ration dust, and dread.
She hauls a hover crate forward, sets it centerstage, and climbs atop it. She clears her throat and speaks, voice bright and unyielding against the murmur.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she begins. The square hushes. All eyes are locked on her—and me. I wish the world would swallow me instead.
She gestures toward where I stand, half-shrouded in steel shadows. “Dayn is one of them—a Jalshagar.A creature our people were told to fear, to hate. But tonight, he saved us. He fought for us. He bled with us.”
A pinch of wind lifts stray strands of her hair, and I see every pore in her skin alive with conviction.
“There are things in the universe that scare us. Myths that warn us off what we don't understand. But if we let fear decide who walks beside us, we lose.” She pauses. The silence hangs, like the calm before storms strike farms. “Let me tell you who Dayn really is.”
In that moment, I feel the full weight of it: the altar of judgment built from lies, a world poised to decide if I’m savior—or beast.
Josie lifts her voice, unwavering. “He’s honor. He’s the steel behind our walls, the blood that warms our cause. I know his scars. I know the monster they feared. But I also know his heart.” She glances at me—eyes glowing with something fierce and tender. “I love him. I believe in him.”
The square crackles.
Some faces twist in fear and murmurs snake while others flush with something I haven’t seen here in weeks—pride. Defiance. Belief.
One man at the front steps back, voice hollow. “I can’t follow a monster.”
