Page 37 of Shielded Heart 1
And now there was Alkorin—Alkorin, who many people on Earth would’ve considered monstrous in appearance. Alkorin, who’d been kind and devoted in the short time they’d spent together. She wanted so badly to trusthim. Wanted so badly to believe he was the opposite of James. Alkorin gave her hope that everything would turn out fine. That she’d find a place here.
That she’d findherself.
But how could she know? How could she know the hope Alkorin provided was real, that hewas real? How could she know that she wasn’t following the same path from which she’dfled? She’d only known him a few days; that wasn’t nearly long enough to see what truly dwelled in a person’s heart.
Someone bumped into her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts as one of her packages slipped out of her arms. She stopped, but something caught her eye before she could apologize to the person she’d walked into. There were two large hovercars—thoughtanksmight’ve been a more accurate term—parked in front of her apartment complex, their gold and teal bodies matching the armor of the Eternal Guard peacekeepers standing nearby.
The building’s entry doors swung open. Two peacekeepers walked out, dragging Rakkob between them.
“Fuck you!” The borian thrashed in their hold, his eyes wild. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it! It wasn’t mine! You’re fucking framing me!”
One of the peacekeepers beside the vehicles hurried forward and jabbed Rakkob in the chest with a staff-like weapon.
Rakkob convulsed, his body seizing for a couple seconds before he went limp. The peacekeepers didn’t miss a step; they hauled him to the back of one of the vehicles and tossed him inside.
A light tap on her shoulder nearly wrenched a scream from Samantha’s throat. She leapt forward and spun to face the alien who’d touched her, squeezing her purchases against her chest.
A male cren stared down at her, his yellow irises bright against his black sclerae. He had to be at least two meters tall—possibly a few centimeters taller than Alkorin, if she didn’t count the sedhi’s horns. The cren’s nose was sharp and hawk-like, complementing equally sharp features that led down to a strong but narrow chin. A curving tusk jutted from either side of his wide mouth, and his thick eyebrows were angled down over the bridge of his nose, lending extra menace to his alreadyintimidating appearance. His ears were long and pointed, adorned with numerous piercings. The sides of his head were shaved, and the long hair on its top—its navy-blue hue several shades darker than his blue-gray skin—was pulled back in a tight ponytail.
Samantha’s brows lowered. For a moment, she could have sworn that she’d seen him before.
I did! He was one of the customers at Sarai’s booth today.
But Sarai’s booth was a twenty-minute walk from Samantha’s apartment. What was this cren doing here now? Why had he approached her?
She swallowed and prayed the sound hadn’t been loud enough for him to hear. “Yes?”
He lifted his hand; Samantha flinched back reflexively until she realized what he was holding—a blue wrapped package containing one of the shirts she’d purchased earlier.
“You dropped this,” he said.
“Oh!” Adjusting the bundles in her arms, she reached out for it and met his eyes. “Thank you.”
The cren nodded and smiled—or at least she thought it was a smile; his tusks made it difficult to tell. Either way, she chose to interpret it as a friendly expression.
“Be safe,” the cren said before strolling away.
Sam watched him until he disappeared around a corner before turning back to her apartment building. The last of the peacekeepers climbed into his vehicle; within a few seconds, both hovertanks lifted off and sped away. The small crowd that had gathered outside, some of whom she recognized as other tenants of her building, dispersed slowly.
Samantha entered the complex and made her way to her apartment. She had no idea what Rakkob had done, but she couldn’t deny her relief; he was gone. It felt good to traverse the corridors without fear of confrontation.
Carefully balancing her packages, she lifted her arm to the scanner beside the door and slipped through once it was open. She had made it several steps beyond the threshold before she realized she wasn’t alone.
There was someone seated at her table.
The door closed behind her.
Samantha dropped her packages and whirled around to find another stranger beside the door—a goat-like groalthuun. Her eyes widened with sudden recognition; he was the same groalthuun who’d been taking pictures of her at the Ventrillian Mall. Her heart pounded, its beats echoing like thunder in her chest.
“W-What do you want? Why are you here?” she asked.
How did they get in?
“Have a seat,” said the groalthuun, his dark eyes locked on her.
Samantha stared at him a second longer before she turned to look at the stranger seated at the table. “I…I would rather—”
“He wasn’t asking,” said the other alien. He was huge, with dull orange skin, long white hair, and four thickly muscled arms. It seemed impossible that the comparatively tiny chair was holding his weight.
