Page 10 of Alien Assassin's Heir

CHAPTER 3

LUNA

The shadow drapes across my walk-up window like a curtain yanked from another lifetime. The filtered suns of Arkosh bounce off the dust-streaked glass and catch in a gleam of red-gold outside. I don't look up at first. I’m elbow-deep in a crate manifest that won’t sync, muttering curses at the lazy droid that loaded it with the wrong tag again.

Then I hear it—three soft knuckles rapping on the counter ledge. Not a worker’s impatient thump. Not a drunk’s sloppy pound.

A knowing knock. Measured. Intentional.

I lift my gaze—and time dies.

Kraj.

He’s real. Right here. Like the war didn’t chew him up. Like the Coalition didn’t strip him out of my life like spoiled wiring. His scales catch the glare of the sun—deep crimson dappled with burnished amber, like embers dancing in a forge. His shoulders fill the frame like he could block out the sky if he stood taller.

I go still.

The stylus slips from my fingers and rolls off the counter. I don’t flinch. My heart’s already rocketing around my ribcagelike a trapped bird. My mouth’s too dry to curse, to scream, tobreathe.

His voice, when it comes, is that same damn low rumble that used to send heat up my spine.

“Luna.”

I blink. His name dies in my throat, but something else makes it past my lips.

“You.”

That’s it. Just the word. Loaded like a bullet.

He tilts his head slightly, unreadable, his golden eyes flicking over me like he’s seeing a ghost, or maybe recognizing a wound he once carved.

“Don’t start screaming,” he says, lifting both hands in mock surrender. “I just came to say hi. Maybe offer to buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Coffee?” My voice cracks. “You think this is aboutcoffee?”

His mouth curls in that infuriating half-smile. “Maybe closure, then. One cup. No games.”

I stare. Long enough for my chest to start aching from holding my breath. Then my hand hits the emergency shutter switch.

The panel slams down between us with a metallic screech, and I stumble back like the act might sever the last of his influence over me. It doesn’t. His face burns behind my eyelids.

For a second, I just stand there. Pulse hammering. Hands shaking.

He’s here. On Arkosh. He found me.

And he wantscoffee?

No. I can’t do this—not at work. Not with cameras on me and god knows who watching. I log out, throw my datapad in my satchel, and punch in a half-day request with trembling fingers. I don’t even wait for confirmation.

I pick up Solie early from the crèche.

She throws her arms around me, sticky with fingerpaint and giggling. “Mama! You’re home early!”

“Yeah, bug. Change of plans.”

“Are we doing something fun?”

“Something... different,” I say, brushing a clump of hair from her cheek.