Page 84 of Alien Assassin's Heir

CHAPTER 25

LUNA

Wildwood feels wrong.

The streets are too empty, the market stalls shuttered early, voices hushed like the whole colony has agreed to hold its breath. Even the wind sounds different—hollow, carrying a faint tang of ozone and dust. My gut twists with it, instincts sharpening until every hair on my arms stands up.

We’re supposed to be getting ready to leave. The plan was simple—pack, prep, vanish before Targen ever got close. But this quiet? This silence? It doesn’t feel like safety. It feels like a trap snapping shut.

I glance at Kraj as we move through the apartment. He doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders are coiled tight, golden eyes flicking to every window, every shadow. That alone confirms it: something’s coming.

“Check the cores again,” I tell him, shoving my shaking hands into a crate to cover the tremor. “If they glitch in transit, we’ll lose everything.”

He grunts in acknowledgment, crouching to sort through the backup data units—small blocks of matte black metal, their green indicators pulsing faintly.

Across the room, Solie chatters to herself as she stuffs a faded toy synthfox into her little pack. “He gets scared of the dark,” she explains solemnly when she sees me watching. My chest cracks a little at her innocence, at how she has no idea the kind of darkness already reaching for us.

“Sweetheart,” I say, kneeling by her, smoothing the tumble of blonde hair from her forehead. “Stay close to Mama today, okay?”

She nods, distracted, eyes already flitting to Kraj. “Can Kael come too?” she asks brightly, using his new name like it’s natural, like she’s been practicing.

My throat tightens. I don’t look at him, but I feel the weight of his gaze burning into me. “Yes,” I manage. “He’ll be with us.”

We work in silence after that. My fingers trace every latch on the med kit, checking and rechecking it’s sealed. Power cells line the counter, neat rows of cobalt-blue cartridges. The air tastes metallic, like the bite of storms before they break.

The comm on the wall chirps, sharp enough to make me flinch. Vale’s voice comes through, rough with static but clipped, efficient.“Activity near the outer ridge. Too organized for scavengers. Can’t confirm who, but it smells like intel.”

The words slam into me. My knees go weak, palms slick with sweat. I force myself upright, gripping the comm so tightly the edge bites into my skin.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” My voice is barely more than breath, but the silence on the other end tells me enough. Vale doesn’t need to say the name.

Kraj rises to his full height, the motion deliberate, heavy. He looks at me, no flinch, no hesitation. Just a slow nod.

“He won’t send drones,” Kraj says, voice gravel rough. “Not for this. He’ll come himself. He wants blood.”

Solie looks up at the sound of his tone, wide-eyed. “Who?”

I scoop her into my arms, clutching her so tight she squirms. My heart thunders against her tiny body, but she doesn’t complain—just hugs me back, her small fingers curling against my shoulder.

The realization cuts through me like ice. This isn’t just another mission, another danger to slip past. This is the endgame. Targen’s not coming to scare us. He’s coming to finish it.

And if he’s here… it won’t just be a fight.

It’ll be war.

We don’t wait. We can’t.

The tension in the air is too sharp, like it’ll cut us open if we stand still. Kraj moves first, hauling the crate of detonators to the door with a grunt. “We move now,” he says, voice clipped, decisive. “Before he sets the board.”

I want to argue. I want to demand one more hour, one more moment of normal. But the look in his eyes is steel, not open to negotiation. So I nod, and I move too.

The apartment becomes a flurry of motion. Kraj loads gear with military precision—blasters, power cells, ration packs—everything in neat lines, like muscle memory guides his hands. My hands shake as I check over the medkit again, tucking in Solie’s inhaler, the extra filter packs, the stitches kit Vale swore we’d never need.

Solie toddles into the room with her pack bouncing against her small back, clutching the stuffed synthfox like it’s a soldier in its own right. “Mama, I’m ready,” she says, beaming. My heart shatters. She has no idea what “ready” means.

Vale’s knock at the door is sharp, coded. Kraj lets him in, and the older man looks grim, the lines in his face etched deep. “Outer ridge activity’s closing,” Vale reports, eyes darting toward Solie. “Two squads minimum. They’re not bothering to hide.”

Kraj growls low in his throat, the sound rattling the air. “Good. Means they want me to see them. He’s here.”