Page 12 of Alien Assassin's Heir

He was sent to me.

He used me.

And now he’s back. Smiling. Asking forcoffee.

And the worst part?

I said yes.

The tramwheezes into the station like a dying animal, exhaling exhaust that stinks of rust and ozone. Its hydraulics hiss as it settles, and the crowd of factory workers and freight drivers spills out in waves—most too tired to notice anything but the next footstep.

But I see him.

He leans against the railing near the station gate, pretending not to look. But I know a surveillance stance when I see one, even if it’s wearing civilian clothes and trying to blend into Arkosh’s dusty backdrop.

Kraj.

He doesn’t wear a uniform, but he may as well be draped in every mistake I’ve ever made.

My stomach twists, bile tangling with old rage. My legs keep moving like I’m on rails myself, pulled by some furious momentum I can’t stop. My boots crunch hard against the gravel, and the cold morning air rips through my lungs like broken glass.

His head turns as I approach, just slightly. He knows it’s me.

“Thought I made myself clear yesterday,” I say, my voice low and sharp.

Kraj straightens slowly, all fluid muscle and coiled grace. He’s too big for this world, too real. The shadows curl off his shoulders like smoke, and his eyes—gods, those eyes—glow like molten gold under Arkosh’s twin suns.

I jab a finger into his chest, and the heat of his body hits me through his shirt like a brand.

“Stay the hell away from me,” I snarl. “From me. From my daughter.”

That cracks him.

For just a blink, the smug confidence wavers. His eyes widen—slightly—but enough. His mouth opens, then closes. “You have a kid?”

I feel it—like I stepped onto a mine and it didn’t go off. Yet.

He backs up half a step, blinking hard. “Is she—?” His voice trails off.

“Don’t you dare.” I step into his space now, all fury and fire. “You don’t get to ask. You lost that right the second you disappeared like a coward.”

“I didn’t disappear,” he says quietly. “I was?—”

“Don’t lie to me again,” I snap, my words like blades. “I’ve read enough. I know what you were. What I was to you.”

“I didn’t want to—” He looks like he’s about to reach for me, like instinct’s dragging him forward.

I flinch back, and that’s enough to stop him cold.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Luna.”

“No, you’re just here to poke at the ruins and see what’s still smoldering.” My voice breaks on the edges, despite everything. I hate that he still has that power. “Go home, Kraj. Crawl back into whatever war pit you came from.”

“I’m not asking for a second chance,” he says, and there’s something in his voice now—rougher, honest maybe. “Just… coffee. One cup. Closure.”

I laugh. It’s ugly. It sounds like it hurts. “Closure?”

“One cup,” he says again. “That’s all.”