Page 5

Five

T he corridor stretched out like a vein in a living machine.

Leonie’s bare feet pressed against the smooth, hard metal floor, every step sending a faint pulse through her soles. The floor was warm—too warm—like it held a heartbeat, and it trembled ever so slightly, as if the entire station was breathing. She flinched at the sensation but said nothing. There was no one to complain to. And even if there was… would it matter?

The discomfort of the metal biting into her heels, the way her toes curled instinctively at the sensation—it all added to her growing sense of wrongness.

She shouldn’t be here.

She shouldn’t exist in this place.

The corridors were cavernous—vaulted high above, built to accommodate creatures of a hundred different shapes and sizes. Some slithered. Some stalked. Others floated. She caught glimpses of them through archways and intersecting passages—outlines in shifting light, conversations in voices that scraped and buzzed and sang in alien cadences. Signs flickered overhead, lines of fluid symbols flowing across glowing panels. None of it made sense.

Her wrist bore a band now. It glowed faintly with blue light and pulsed in time with her heartbeat. A restraint, perhaps, or a tracker. But it wasn’t what held her in place.

Fear was the real leash.

She walked beside the masked figure—his dark robes flowing silently with each step, a living shadow that seemed to command the very air around him. Two silent drones flanked them, drifting like vultures made of glass and chrome. Her cage was long gone. She had been released from it, yes… but freedom wasn’t what she’d gained.

Eyes followed her from every corner of the corridor.

Dozens of them. Hundreds.

Some curious. Some amused.

But many gleamed with hunger.

Leonie could feel the weight of their gazes, crawling over her exposed skin like ants. The thin, silky fabric clinging to her body was more like decoration than clothing—alien material that shifted unnaturally with her every movement, too perfectly fitted, too revealing. She folded her arms over her chest, instinctively shielding herself, head lowered.

Her cheeks burned with humiliation. She didn’t want to see their stares. Didn’t want to know what they were imagining.

They passed through an open plaza, where crystal towers rose like frozen lightning bolts. Light refracted in fractured beams, scattering rainbow glints across the polished floor. It might’ve been beautiful under other circumstances—breathtaking, even—but the moment soured instantly.

A group of aliens lounged near a circular drinking terminal. Bipedal, squat and fur-covered, their postures slouched with drunken relaxation. Their eyes, small and gleaming, tracked her the moment she entered the plaza. One lifted his head and let out a low, garbled howl—a sound that reeked of intoxicated aggression. His thick paw pointed at her.

The others laughed. Barked. One mimicked a whistle. Another made a lewd gesture that didn’t need translation.

Leonie froze, breath catching in her throat. A flare of panic hit her chest. She felt exposed— too exposed. The collar around her neck felt tighter.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Then—

The figure beside her stopped.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t raise a hand. He simply turned to face them.

The drunken aliens fell silent mid-jeer.

It was like someone had cut the air out of the room.

Recognition dawned like a slap. The one who’d howled made a choking sound and shrank visibly. Another dropped his drink. The laughter turned to stillness. Heads bowed. Not out of respect—but instinct. Like animals before a predator.

One by one, they backed away into the shadows, stumbling over each other in their hurry. Not a word. Not a glance.

The robed figure lingered for a moment, silent.

Then a sound escaped his mask—barely audible. A low exhale. Almost a sigh. Maybe annoyance. Maybe disgust.

Leonie stared up at him.

She couldn’t see his face. The mask was smooth, seamless, dark as obsidian, split only by a faint vertical line that hinted at nothing beneath. He hadn’t raised his voice. Hadn’t made a threat.

And still, they had scattered like leaves in a storm.

She swallowed hard. What kind of power does he have? What sort of reputation made aliens twice his size run at a single glance?

He turned toward her again. His voice emerged—just one word, quiet and melodic, that meant nothing to her but carried the tone of a command. Not cruel. Not aggressive. But firm. Like someone telling a child, Come along.

So she did.

They descended deeper into the station. The noise faded. The walls changed—less chaotic, more refined. The lighting dimmed, turned golden and indirect. Every line was smooth, every angle deliberate. There was no more need to shout here. No posturing. The very air felt still.

And then they reached the hangar.

She saw the ship.

And all the breath left her lungs.

It loomed on the polished floor like a beast coiled in sleep. Sleek and seamless, like it had been poured into being rather than built. Its surface was a gleaming gunmetal grey, lined with soft matte-black ridges that hinted at weaponry and speed. The hull shimmered faintly, like it was veiled in water. No seams. No windows. No doors she could see. Just one long, lethal shape curved for power and grace.

Her feet stopped moving.

She stared at it, rooted to the floor, the realization crashing into her all at once.

This was real.

She was leaving.

Earth—gone.

Alfie. Her flat in Shepherd’s Bush. Her morning rituals. The smell of fresh coffee and the buzz of the kettle. The chaotic din of the surgical ward. Her coworkers. The chatter. The exhaustion. The normalcy .

Her life.

She blinked, and her eyes stung. But no tears came. Not yet.

She was no longer a nurse. No longer anything. Just a human plucked from her world, stripped of everything, walking barefoot into the grasp of a being who had silenced a room with a word.

She didn’t know what he was. What he wanted.

But he’d bought her.

And now she belonged to him.

The masked figure turned, lifted a hand, and gestured to the ship.

It opened for him.

Not a hatch—not really. The hull simply parted , as if obeying a master’s thought, and a ramp unfurled with liquid smoothness.

Leonie stepped forward, every nerve taut. Her legs shook.

She walked into the unknown.