Page 75 of Alien Assassin's Heir

Images flash too fast—Targen’s voice, the dossiers, the Combine exec, the explosion, the sleepless nights, Solie’s tiny hands, Vale’s dying look if what I choose goes wrong. My body trembles with the weight of decision. I think of all the ways Ihave hid the truth. I think of the small safe threads I’ve clung to in the dark. I think of the child who believes the universe holds kind things for her.

If I say no — if I refuse — I condemn him to do whatever he plans by himself. He’s a man built for violence; he will do whatever it takes. I will have no claim to him afterward. I will have given myself to solitude with wounded pride. If I say yes — if I step into the fire with him — then I take ownership of what comes next. I risk everything for the chance that what we build will be whole.

“I can’t…” The words die because they’re a lie. I can. I am tired of being the woman who folds away her wants to keep a child alive. I am so tired. I want respite. I want the safety of a stupid small life where Solie runs with skinned knees and we don’t have to practice silencers. I want to believe we can make that.

“Kraj.” My voice is steady now in a way I didn’t expect. “If you’re going to do something stupid, you’re not doing it by yourself.”

He blinks, like the idea lands with more force than he expected. Relief and fury and an odd kind of joy flicker across his face; it’s messy and human and it breaks me in a new place.

“What are you saying?” His voice is cautious, hopeful in a way that makes my chest ache.

I stand up and walk to the small window, looking out at the canyon spires thrown into indigo by the moons. The air smells of cool stone and distant metal. Solie’s breathing is a soft rhythm behind me. I inhale and let the weight of the night settle on my shoulders.

“I’m saying you won’t burn alone. You won’t fake your end while I hide. If we’re going to break the leash, we do it together—every lie, every step. If you want to make them think you’re gone, then we both disappear. We fake your death in a way theycan’t trace back to me. We stage it so that it’s convincing, but not plumbing the depths of anyone’s worst methods.” I don’t say how. I don’t give details. I won’t. He knows enough. He’s dangerous enough. Neither of us needs the specifics spelled out.

“And if you die?” His voice trembles on the last word.

“Then we both go down knowing we did what we could.” The line is tight in my throat. “And if we don’t die? If we get out—if we live—then we’ll build the stupid little life. No handlers. No levers. Just us. Just three people.”

He moves then, closing the distance between us with a speed that still surprises me. His hand finds mine and squeezes. It’s a hard, sure grip. “Then we plan,” he says. “We plan like we mean it. We cut ties clean. We leave nothing they can use. We… we make this ours.”

I let out a breath that might be a laugh, might be a sob. The whole thing is absurd, dangerous, terrifying. But under the terror is a current of something that tastes like hope.

“Okay,” I say, because words are all we have at the moment and because standing here waiting will not secure anything. “Okay. We do it together.”

He leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. The contact is warm, a pledge.

Outside, a wind lifts the dust and throws it against the shutter. Inside, Solie stirs and murmurs something sweet and small in her sleep. I memorize the weight of this moment: the iron in his hand, the frightening promise in his voice, the way the room feels like a small planet spinning fragilely against a dark sky. We have a plan — one that could save us or send us all to ruin — and as I let his warmth anchor me, I feel the terrible, ridiculous bravery of it spread through my limbs.