Page 68 of Alien Assassin's Heir

She frowns deeper. “But I still want him.”

Her voice is small, but the truth in it is bigger than anything I can handle.

I pull her into my arms, hugging her so tight she squeaks. My face presses into her hair, soft and sweet with the scent of soap. My throat burns as I whisper the lie, over and over, the same one I need her to believe—and maybe me too.

“He’s not who we thought. He’s not who we thought.”

But the words taste like ash, and I don’t know if I’m convincing her. Or myself.

At night, the safehouse groans with old age. The pipes hiss. The wind whistles through cracks in the shutters. Solie sleeps curled beside me, one hand clutching her toy, her breath warm and steady against my arm.

I stroke her back slowly, my fingers brushing over patches of skin that ripple faintly, scales pressing up like secrets. I whisper to her, promises I can’t keep.

“I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep us safe.”

But my mind drifts back to him. To Kraj’s molten eyes, his laugh rumbling against my ear, the way his arms felt around both of us. To how it felt, for just a moment, like I wasn’t carrying the world alone.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the memory doesn’t fade. It clings like smoke, filling my lungs until I choke on it.

Because walls don’t stop shadows.

And Kraj has always been a shadow I can’t outrun.

I know something’s wrong the second I step into the safehouse. The air feels different—too heavy, too still. The hairs on the back of my neck rise before I even shut the door.

My hand goes instinctively to the small blaster tucked in my pack, fingers trembling against the worn grip.

Then I see him.

Kraj is standing in the corner of the kitchen, half in shadow. No weapon. No smirk. His broad shoulders are slumped like someone carved the fight right out of him.

“I just want to talk,” he says, his voice low, rough, almost hoarse. “One time. Then I’ll leave.”

I should scream. I should draw on him. I should shove him out the door and never let him back in. But the words don’t come, and the blaster stays heavy in my bag. My pulse thunders so loud it drowns out everything else.

“You don’t get to just walk in here,” I manage, my voice cracking. “Not after?—”

“I know.” His eyes find mine, molten gold in the dim light. “I know. But please. Just… listen. Once.”

Every instinct screamsno. But my body betrays me. My head dips, just barely, the tiniest nod. Against every ounce of better judgment, I agree.

We sitat Vale’s rickety table, the surface scarred with old knife marks. I keep my arms crossed tight, as if holding myself together, while Kraj leans forward, claws curled against the wood but not digging in. His gaze doesn’t waver.

“You read the files,” he says, not a question.

The room tilts. My throat goes dry. “You left them hidden in your kit. What did you expect me to do?”

“I expected you’d hate me for it,” he says flatly. His jaw flexes. “And I was right.”

My laugh is sharp, bitter. “Hate doesn’t even cover it.”

He nods once, slow. “I didn’t come to Arkosh to hurt you, Luna.” His voice softens in a way I’ve never heard before—raw, stripped bare. “I came to get out. To bury all that. And you…” His eyes close briefly, then open again, blazing. “You’re the only thing that’s ever felt real.”

The words cut deep, sharper than any blade. My chest aches, my heart slamming against my ribs as tears sting my eyes. I shake my head, blinking furiously.

“Then why did you lie again?” I whisper.

The silence that follows is suffocating. His mouth opens, then shuts. His shoulders sag further, as though the weight of my question crushes him down into the chair.