Page 7 of Alien Assassin's Heir

“Drink?”

I swipe it from his hand before I think better of it. The liquid burns like solvent going down, and I hiss between my fangs.

“Godsdamn, you’re a bastard,” I growl.

He chuckles. “Says the guy who just killed a mech with nothing but a backpack bomb and a death wish.”

“Wasn’t a wish,” I grunt, leaning against the bulkhead as the ship lifts off. “Just a delay.”

“Sure, sure.” He glances me over, lips twitching with something like admiration. “Still, gotta admit. Hell of a move. Got some high command folk saying you might be worth more than cannon fodder after all.”

“Not interested.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”

I meet his eyes. “You didn’t come here to give me a medal.”

“No,” he admits, nodding. “Came to offer you a job.”

I stare at him.

“No more trenches. No more firestorms,” he continues, pacing slowly across the narrow drop bay. “This one’s soft. Quiet. Surveillance mostly. No squad. No chain of command. Just you. Like the old days.”

“The old days got me here,” I snap.

Targen tilts his head. “That’s because you went rogue. Refused a kill order. Don’t get me wrong—I argued to keep your head on. But orders are orders.”

“You ordered me to kill a civilian,” I snarl.

“I ordered you to clean up your damn mess,” he fires back, his voice tightening.

The silence sizzles between us like a charge waiting to blow.

He exhales and looks away.

“She’s still alive, you know.”

That stops my breath. My spine locks.

He looks back at me, expression unreadable.

“Luna. The woman you couldn’t kill.”

I step forward, the floor rattling under my weight.

“What. Do you know?”

He raises a hand, calm. “She’s working for Helios Combine. Frontier colony. Off the main grid. Pretty place, if you like dirt and distance. Arkosh.”

My blood runs molten.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, low and dangerous.

“Because the Coalition’s got eyes on that place,” he replies. “They think there’s intel being leaked through shipping routes. Civilian contractors being paid too much. Too curious. We need someone on the ground to monitor things. Quietly. Discreetly.”

“You want me to spy on her again?” I laugh, bitter and rough. “Not a damn chance.”

Targen leans closer.