Page 9 of Alien Assassin's Heir

Inside the shuttle, the lights flicker slightly—cheap maintenance cycles trying to keep us alive. The pilot’s sealed off behind reinforced duraglass. We’re flying dark, no insignias. Off-book. Of course.

I glance at the datapad Targen shoved into my hands before departure.

ARKOSH – FILE 77C9.

Subject: Desmond, Luna.

Affiliation: Civilian contractor (Helios Combine).

Role: Fabrication outpost operator.

Location: Wildwood Settlement.

Status: Active.

There’s a photo attached.

She’s older in it. Just a bit. Lines around the eyes. Hair pulled back in a messy knot. Still beautiful. Still dangerous. There’s something hard in her stare now. Something carved from betrayal and survival.

Good.

She’ll need it.

Arkosh is a hellhole with a pretty face. Sandstorms, black markets, corporate ghosts whispering through quiet towns. If they’re sending me there, there’s more going on than “shipment monitoring.” Someone’s leaking something, and they want me to find out who, and if I can shut them up without getting anyone’s hands dirty.

I snort.

Too late for that.

But then… they used her name. Again.

Luna Desmond. Target. Contact. Possible asset.

My mate.

Not officially. Not in any ceremony or cultural register. But it’s real.

I felt it the second I saw her. Something old and aching, like a memory passed down through blood. My people call itthrayk’ta—the soul-knot. You meet them once, and they’re yours. Doesn’t matter how far you run, or how deep you bury it. You know.

And I knew.

I still do.

That’s why this assignment’s already a problem. I should’ve said no. Should’ve demanded deployment somewhere far—Juntak Prime, maybe, or the asteroid prisons of Alkar Nine.

But the moment I saw her face again, the breath left my lungs like a punch.

The ache came back.

And with it, the guilt.

I don’t know what she’ll do if she sees me. Probably punch me in the throat. I deserve that. Maybe worse. But I have to see her. Just once. No.

Not just once.

I want more.

I want to know if that laugh still lives in her. If she ever forgave me. If there’s a part of her, even a sliver, that remembers what we had before I shattered it.

Stars, I’m a fool.

The ship jolts as we hit local space. The pilot says something clipped through the internal comms. Landing codes. Final descent. I barely hear him.

I’m too busy staring back at the stars, and wondering if she ever looks up at them…

And think of me.