Page 19 of Alien Assassin's Heir

CHAPTER 5

LUNA

The light from the hallway flickers just once, casting long shadows across the tiny room I call a home. I sit on the floor beside Solie’s cot, my back pressed against the cool plascrete wall. She’s sound asleep, tiny breaths slow and steady, rising and falling beneath the frayed thermal blanket that’s seen too many washes and too few replacements.

Her arm’s flung out across the mattress like a sunbeam, golden skin catching the soft light. My heart clenches when I see it again—that thin trail of shimmering scales, no bigger than my pinky, coiled over the curve of her forearm like an accident of biology that refuses to hide.

I reach out and brush her hair gently from her cheek. She stirs, but doesn’t wake.

“Shh, baby,” I whisper, voice thick and low, “Mama’s here.”

My fingers hesitate over that scaly patch. They’re smooth to the touch—almost silky—but I can feel the faint heat beneath them. It’s the same warmth I used to feel against my skin when he held me.

Kraj.

Gods help me.

I press a hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound, heart thundering like a war drum.

It’s not fair.

I’ve worked so hard to keep our lives small, safe,invisible. I left everything behind—my job, my status, my name, the very system I helped prop up for years—just to give her a chance. A quiet life. A normal one.

And thenheshows up. Tall as sin and twice as dangerous, standing there at my office window like a nightmare in broad daylight.

I told myself he was gone forever.

Ineededhim to be gone forever.

I don’t sleep that night. I just sit there in the dark, watching Solie dream. Her mouth twitches, a tiny giggle escaping her lips. She always dreams happy things. She’s still innocent enough to believe the world is soft.

I can’t let her know it isn’t.

When morning finally comes, I pull myself together the way I always do. Quick shower. Protein bar. Half a cup of cold coffee from the night before, because there’s no time to make a fresh pot. I slide into my uniform, tug my hair into a tight braid, and slap a smile on my face that doesn’t reach my eyes.

Solie’s still half-asleep when I get her dressed, mumbling about dreams where she could fly.

“I had wings, Mama,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “Like yours.”

I freeze.

She doesn’t notice. She’s already skipping off toward the door.

Work is hell.

The datapad in my hands might as well be a brick, my fingers trembling too much to hit the freight confirm fields properly. I’ve uploaded the same manifest three times already, and every time the server pings back a reject code.

The air in the command center feels stale and heavy. Dust glints in the morning light, swirling in the beams that cut through the dirty glass.

Every time the front access door hisses open, I flinch.

Every silhouette that approaches the walk-up window makes my stomach churn.

But none of them are Kraj.

Grinna leans over my console mid-shift, her voice sticky with mischief. “That tall drink of scales from yesterday,” she says, nudging me with an elbow. “He yours?”

My throat tightens. “What?”