Page 2

Two

A metallic clank cracked through the corridor like a gunshot.

Leonie jolted upright, heart thudding against her ribs. The sharp movement sent a wave of pain through her neck—raw and tender where the collar had already bruised the skin. It wasn’t just heavy; it bit into her, as if it had a will of its own.

The lights in her cell flickered—pale blue one moment, flickering red the next. Long shadows crawled across the curved walls. Then the far panel of the cell—smooth, featureless—shimmered like heated metal and peeled open without sound.

What stepped through wasn’t human.

It was shorter than she expected—barely chest-height—but squat and powerful, like a living slab of muscle and stone. Its green skin gleamed wetly under the stuttering lights, like polished jade slick with oil. Thick arms swung heavily at its sides, each tipped with blunt, clawed fingers. Its eyes—completely black, without whites or irises—reflected no light and showed no emotion. It stared at her as if weighing her on some internal scale.

Leonie scrambled to her feet, trembling. “Where… where am I?” Her voice cracked. “What do you want from me?”

The creature didn’t answer.

It tilted its head to one side. Its ears—jagged and pointed—twitched once. Then came a sound: deep, rattling clicks from its throat, layered and inhuman. The noise sent goosebumps across her arms. It wasn’t language—it was a warning.

And then it pressed something on its belt.

Pain exploded through her neck.

It wasn’t just a shock. It was a searing bolt of agony that lit her nerves on fire and sent her sprawling to the floor with a strangled scream. Her limbs convulsed, her breath vanished, her vision whitewashed. For one horrible moment, she couldn’t move at all.

Then—blessedly—it stopped.

She lay gasping, trembling, every part of her body screaming. Tears stung her eyes. The collar pulsed faintly against her throat, like a living thing waiting for its next command.

Footsteps.

Two tall figures entered behind the squat alien—taller than humans, their bodies lithe and angular beneath dark, skin-tight suits. Their faces were smooth, oval plates—featureless and gleaming like polished obsidian. No eyes. No mouths. Just blank, empty masks.

They moved without sound. Like machines.

Leonie tried to push herself up, but her limbs betrayed her. She made it to her knees before they seized her—cold, precise hands gripping her arms and yanking her upright. Panic surged.

“Don’t,” she gasped, “don’t touch me?—!”

The squat alien shifted slightly. One stubby finger drifted toward the control device on its belt.

“No!” she cried. “Please—please don’t?—!”

The collar vibrated again. Not pain—yet—but enough to let her know it could be worse.

She went still.

The taller ones began to strip her.

Rough hands unfastened the simple clothing she’d been given when she first awoke. She screamed, fought—until the collar pulsed again. Her fight died in her throat.

They didn’t react to her sobbing. To her begging.

Her body shook with rage and humiliation, but the fear overpowered everything else. Her bare skin felt ice-cold under their alien hands as they led her, naked and shivering, into the next chamber.

The air changed.

It hissed with sterilizing vapor—thick, bluish mist that reeked of metal and antiseptic. Jets blasted her body from every angle. The warmth of the mist was no comfort. It felt clinical. Dehumanizing. Like she was being washed not for cleanliness—but for ownership.

When they were done, they handed her something.

Clothing.

If it could even be called that.

Two pieces of silken fabric—slick, alien in texture. The top clung to her skin like liquid, wrapping around her chest and leaving her stomach bare. The lower piece was little more than a strip of fabric that settled on her hips, leaving her legs exposed. It didn’t feel like clothing. It felt like display.

Like she was being packaged.

They escorted her back to the cell and shoved her inside. The squat alien followed her in, standing just inside the threshold. It barked something in its language—short, sharp syllables that scraped like stone against stone.

Then it pointed to her collar.

The meaning was clear.

Obey, or suffer.

She didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Her throat burned with swallowed screams. But her eyes blazed with fury.

The creature gave what might have been a satisfied grunt and turned away.

As soon as it was gone, a section of the wall opened with a low hiss , and a tray slid out with a mechanical jerk.

On it sat a bowl of thick grey paste, the color of wet cement. A cup of water trembled beside it.

She stared at the food.

It didn’t move. It didn’t smell. It might not even be food.

Still, her stomach churned with hunger. But she didn’t touch it. Not yet.

She backed into the far corner of her cell, hugging herself tightly. The lights dimmed. The hum of the walls returned—low, steady, alive.

She didn’t cry.

Not yet.

But her body trembled with the effort it took to stay quiet. To stay human .

She didn’t know what they wanted. She didn’t know what was coming.

She only knew two things.

She wasn’t safe.

And Alfie was still out there.

Somewhere.

Alone.