Page 13 of Alien Assassin's Heir

I should walk away. I should spit in his face. I should scream until patrol drones show up and tase him into a coma.

But I don’t.

Because Idoneed closure. I need to look him in the face and burn out whatever’s still clinging to my ribs like ivy.

I exhale through my nose and step back.

“Fine,” I say. “One cup. That’s it.”

He nods, once. No smile. Just that unreadable look, like something important just shifted behind his eyes.

“I’ll message you,” I say, “when I pick a place. Neutral ground. Public.”

“Understood.” His voice is so soft I almost miss it.

I turn on my heel and walk away before I do something stupid—like cry, or scream, or ask him why the hell he ever left.

Behind me, I can feel his gaze on my back. It’s not a spy’s look. It’s not cold or calculating.

It’s desperate.

And worse?

It feels like home.