Page 65 of Alien Assassin's Heir

If the past won’t let me go, I’ll carve a future with my own hands. For them. For the fragile, impossible chance of something real.

But stars help me—when she finds out what I’ve done, when she looks at me with those blue eyes filled with disappointment and fire—will there be anything left of me worth saving?

I doubt it.

The door hissesshut behind me, and for half a heartbeat, I let myself pretend I’m walking into peace. The air smells faintly of fried root and lavender oil, the kind she dabs on her wrists at night. Home, or something that could’ve been.

But it’s off. I can feel it immediately—like stepping into a room where the argument still hangs in the air, even if the shouting’s long done.

Luna doesn’t look at me. She’s at the counter, hands moving too fast as she sorts through a stack of cargo slips. Papers slap hard against the surface, sharp enough to make Solie flinch where she sits on the stool beside her.

Solie turns at the sound of the door, her face lighting up—until she sees her mother’s. Her little smile falters.

“Hey, firefly,” I say, pitching my voice soft.

She hesitates, then climbs down from the stool. Her small feet patter across the floor before she launches at me, arms around my neck. I lift her easily, breathing her in—sugar and soap and the faintest hint of dust. For a moment, everything in me loosens.

But over her shoulder, Luna keeps her eyes fixed on the slips.

“You’re late,” she says, her tone clipped.

“I had business,” I answer, forcing steady calm into my voice.

“Business.” She lets out a brittle laugh, still not turning. “Of course you did.”

The words sting. Not because they’re sharp, but because they’re true.

I shift Solie against me. “Luna, look at me.”

“Don’t,” she snaps, the word cracking like a whip. Her hand slams the last slip down hard enough that the stack slides crooked across the counter. Solie flinches, pressing her face into my shoulder.

“Hey, little one,” I murmur, kissing the top of her hair. “It’s alright. Mama’s just tired.”

But Solie knows. Kids always know. Her small arms clutch tighter, and her voice is muffled when she whispers, “Are you mad, Mama?”

That gets Luna to turn. Her smile is thin, strained, a knife’s edge barely holding. “No, baby. Not mad. Just… busy.” Her eyes flick to me for the briefest second, and what I see there hollows me out. Not anger. Not even hate. Something worse. Distance.

I set Solie down gently. “Why don’t you get your toy, firefly? Show me how far you can make it fly.”

She brightens a little, scampering off to her room. The moment her footsteps fade, the silence slams down.

“Talk to me,” I say, low, controlled.

Luna crosses her arms. “About what? Another one of your business trips? Another thing you ‘can’t tell me about’?” Her voice rises on the last words, cracking like glass.

I step closer, my chest tight. “Luna, I?—”

“Don’t you dare,” she cuts me off. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like you didn’t know. I saw your face this morning. When the report came in about the Combine exec—you didn’t even flinch. Everyone else in Wildwood panicked, but not you. You just watched.”

I swallow hard. “It’s not that simple.”

Her laugh is sharp, ugly. “Isn’t it? Man dies in an explosion. Colony turns upside down. And the only one who doesn’t look surprised is you.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t surprised?—”

“You didn’t have to!” she shouts, then stops herself, breathing hard, eyes flicking toward Solie’s room. She lowers her voice, but it shakes. “You knew. Don’t lie to me, Kraj. Not again.”

The weight in my chest crushes. I want to reach for her, but the fury in her eyes warns me off.