Page 42 of Claimed by the Alien Assassin

DAYN

I ease my hand around Josie’s as the transmission crackles to life—it’s the familiar voice of Colonel Reeves, but there's no relief in it. Her tone is razor-edged: a corporate syndicate is sweeping across Snowblossom, drilling in on mineral rights now that the political lights have turned elsewhere. The colony’s defense holds, but Jacob’s company has money, armed enforcers, and backups. Their lines are collapsing.

Josie sits bolt upright beside me, fists clenching the comm console. Her fury radiates off her, scorching. “That’s our home,” she says, eyes glinting with white-hot resolve. “No one gets to strip it bare.” She rests a hand on my arm, her voice low and steady, but quivering with heat. “We go back.”

I already know. There’s no hesitation—a snap decision that echoes the rhythm of our intertwined hearts.

“I’m in,” I say, voice quiet but ironclad.

I look to Dowron’s feed—it’s mid-afternoon in his quarters.

His eyebrow lifts. “Try not to level the place again,” he says with a half-smirk, half-threat.

Then the signature blinks to confirm: we’re cleared.

Atmosphere crackles in the hold as the ship descends into Drexar Seven’s skies.

Thick rainforest blankets the land below; the mist drifting over prefab rooftops looks innocent, but we know better.

Below, the half-built corporate outpost is a scar on the landscape—metal scaffolding, armed enforcers patrolling, drones buzzing like flies around fresh concrete.

Josie slips into hack gear—patch cable, portable uplink, her silhouette lit by code scrolls on her HUD. I settle into hunter mode, cloak enabled. “I’ll ghost the perimeter,” I murmur, and her nod sends adrenaline rushing through both of us.

She melts inside the compound with uncanny efficiency.

I watch her hijack the power grid first—luxuriant steam pours from their shower risers, now a brown sludge show.

The mercs go wild as cleaning drones break into impromptu ballet performances, lights flickering offbeat.

She sends me a grin over the link: “Rebellion couture, courtesy of yours truly.”

Outside, I slip through foliage as quiet as a predator’s breath.

One merc rounding the corner meets silence and then a swift takedown—knife across the throat, life extinguished before he can scream.

I pull back his body into the shadows. Whispers spread among the other enforcers: rumors of a ghost in the woods. Few stay to investigate.

By the time Josie’s malware corrupts their communications grid, I’ve incapacitated half a dozen, using nerve strikes and rifle-charged darts. The remaining enforcers stand down when their radios go dead and the world inside their compound smells of sewage and broken authority.

Josie emerges from the compound like a victorious general, grime streaked across her face, hair foaming from sludge. She grabs my arm for a quick embrace, joy radiating off her in palpable surges. “You sounded like thunder,” she says, breathless.

I smile, brushing her dust-covered hair behind her ear. “You made them dance. That counts as mercy, right?”

We walk into the colony’s heart, where cheers rise as mist curls between bodies. Children run ahead, shouting her name. Miners pat my armor in gratitude. Jose reinstalls one of her jury-rigged ion turrets beside a rebuilt scout tower, testing a flicker of power like a proud parent.

In the afterglow, I follow her back to the old command shed—our starting point, now heavy with memories. Forest mist drifts in through broken panels, making the place smell of rain and second chances. We share a silent look, both changed, both resilient.

I brush my hand across her cheek: “We came back different.”

She tilts her head, smile softening despite fatigue. “We came back stronger.”

Now we stand together in that familiar space, pressing into each other as the world hums around.

Our seventeenth time isn’t urgent. It’s a rekindling, a deep fire held in tenderness.

Fingers tangle in armor plates and soot-streaked hair.

Breath syncopates in the humid air and distant colony lights glint like stars.

We whisper reassurances in between kisses—a lifeline of words spoken feverishly or not at all. Around us, the command shed becomes our sanctuary once more—where love blooms amidst the wreckage of war and the scars we’ve earned.

When our bodies come to rest, I press my forehead to hers. “Home,” I murmur, voice savoring the simplest truth.

She reaches for my hand, tracing lines worn by battles and shared survival. “Home,” she echoes.

Outside, Snowblossom breathes a sigh—resilient, emboldened. And inside our ruined, precious command shed, two souls reaffirm that no matter what threats loom—be they empires or profiteers—they’re ready. Together.