Page 52 of Claimed By the Alien Assassin
My fingers grip his jacket. “Do you realize they just kidnapped children?”
He swallows. Slowly. “If we pull this off… we break them. We free everyone. We end this occupation.”
I place a hand on his cheek. “You believe that?”
His silver eyes glimmer. “With you? I’ll walk through a star to make that real.”
The rally behind us starts to stir—word of the announcement spreading, rumor and rage mixing with despair. The next plan needs to set the tide again—choosing to saveall of them.
I reach out, placing both hands around his neck. “Then we build rockets.”
I meet with the core team. Inside the commandeered telecom bunker, we plot with frantic maps, improvised schematics, and frightened hope. Vortaxian defense codes, orbital readouts, thermal exhaust specs—all scrawled across holo-tables. Tessa rubs her eyes. Hargon taps a console.
“This is madness,” he says sharply. “We’re Joes and Hans. Not orbital marines.”
I level with them. “But if we don’t fightthem—they’re going to make us nothing.”
Dayn steps forward. “We won’t land on their ship. We take an approach vector from the bay cluster—they’ve stripped crew rotations for the gala. We slip in, disable communications, then hit the command bridge.”
Murmurs ripple. I add, “Promise we extract civilians first. While they're focused on compliance crates, we’re pulling kids and elders. Then we do the strike.”
Hargon shakes his head. “Full frontal into orbit. People will die.”
I breathe hard. “We’ve lost souls already on the ground. This is for them.”
Silence cracks. Then Tessa says quietly, “I’m in.”
Others nod, loud enough for fear to fold into courage.
Dayn takes my hand. “We do this together.”
My muscles clench and relax; adrenaline hisses. “Start prepping. We leave tonight.”
They leave the bunker. I touch the holo-screen, the colonist faces still blinking in live feed. Kid’s laughter from earlier fades, echo in memory. Every rebel holds purpose now.
Dayn squeezes my hand. “We’re going to space.”
Soft tremor in his voice. “Together.”
I swallow. “Together.”
The plan is insane. But I taste its truth on my tongue: hope again licking earth’s dust.
Because this night, we aim not just to resist—but towin.
CHAPTER 13
DAYN
Istare at Josie as though she's grown a second head—planets colliding, fire and wonder in her eyes. “We’re going to assault a Vortaxian capital ship?” My voice is low, ragged with incredulity. She nods. No hesitation.
It feels simultaneously brilliant and suicidal.
The rebel command bunker is dim except for holo-screens mapping the ship’s docking bay—the one scheduled to receive shipments at midnight. Its precision glow casts angles of tension across her face. She studies the layout as a sculptor studies marble.
“This is insane,” I whisper. Insane but terrifyingly perfect.
She tilts her head, expression steady. “So?”
