Page 5

CHAPTER 5

T he cage glided soundlessly, floating just above the metallic ground, casting a faint shadow beneath the glowing path lights of the station. Sylvia sat inside, legs drawn up, arms hugging her knees. The alien who had bought her—the one who had ended the auction with a single word—walked beside her. Silent. Imposing. Utterly unreadable.

She hadn't heard a word from him since the auction ended. Not even a glance in her direction. It was as if she were freight. Property.

But she wasn’t alone.

Everywhere they went, beings stared.

Until they saw him.

Then the stares vanished. Heads dropped. Shoulders tightened. The hum of chatter fell to a hush wherever he walked. He didn’t have to do anything—just look, and that was enough to make other aliens avert their gazes or stumble aside, clutching their companions or their drinks or their parcels of alien goods.

They passed through a crowded area that reminded Sylvia of a food court. At least, that’s what it looked like: smoke curled from heat vents, strange aromas hung in the air, and tables were scattered across a broad atrium. But the moment he entered, it changed. Utensils clattered onto tabletops. A hulking, furred alien snatched its tray and slunk away. Conversations ended mid-sentence.

The crowd parted for him like water around a blade.

Sylvia kept her eyes on him through the curved glass of her cage.

If she weren’t so afraid, she might find it fascinating—the fact that every being here feared him.

He was obviously the most dangerous thing on this station, but she should have known that already from his appearance.

His armor was unlike anything she’d ever seen—deep, void-black, absorbing all the light around it. There were no glowing symbols. No alien runes or decoration. Just blank, silent menace. The flexible plating moved like muscle, hugging a tall, muscular frame with the kind of balance that spoke of coiled strength. His steps made no sound. No heavy footfalls. No mechanical clicks.

Too fluid. Too precise.

And behind him…

Those wings. Folded tight. Massive. Segment upon segment of the same eerie black material. Could he really fly? What kind of being was he?

He looked more like a demon than an alien.

She shivered and looked away, heart hammering. But her gaze crept back a moment later. She didn’t want to stare, but she couldn’t help it.

Curiosity battled fear in her chest.

He said nothing. He didn’t acknowledge her. Didn’t spare her a glance.

And somehow, that terrified her more.

They descended into darker corridors now. The lights dimmed with every level they passed, the walls growing smoother, more ominous. Fewer beings passed them here, and those that did vanished into doorways or down side paths with their heads low and their voices hushed.

Until finally, they entered a cavernous chamber: vast, circular, lined with docking berths and the parked vessels of a dozen different species.

And there it was.

His ship.

It wasn’t the largest. But it was… breathtaking in its own terrifying way. Sleek. Angular. Pitch-black like him. No name, no insignia, no markings of any kind. It sat like a sleeping predator, poised and waiting.

Her floating container glided to a halt before it.

He raised one armored hand. There were no visible buttons. No console. Just a low, guttural command spoken in a language she couldn’t begin to understand.

The ship responded.

The hatch peeled open with a hiss.

Smooth and silent—as if the vessel itself had been waiting for him.

The glass chamber moved again, drawn forward into the yawning darkness of the ship’s interior.

Sylvia’s breath hitched. The walls swallowed the light as she entered, and her reflection vanished.

No one was going to save her.

She was going with him. Wherever he was taking her.

And she still didn’t even know his name.