Page 10 of Rescued by the Alien Hit Man (Villains Do It Better)

CHAPTER 10

CIKARIUS

“ D ata, Mia. Do you have all of it?”

We didn’t have much time before the guards tracked us down. We needed to get out of there.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Find a hiding spot,” I said. “I’ll track down Ivor.”

Mia’s response was visceral—a look that seared into me, a mixture of revulsion and defiance. I had been an assassin. To her, I was still stained with the blood of countless contracts.

Her lips thinned, the corners set in determination. “I’m safer with you,” she said, her voice low but fierce.

“Understood.” There was no room for argument when survival was at stake. We continued down the corridor lit by the flickering neon lights.

The hum of machinery thrummed through the walls, mingling with the distant echoes of voices lost in the labyrinthine bowels of the base. It was a stark contrast to the wild chorus of Dufair’s jungle, where this had all begun. The metallic tang of the recycled air bit at the back of my throat.

As we edged closer to the main hub, the tension strung tight like the strings of a bow ready to snap. I reached for Mia’s hand, feeling the softness of her skin against the callouses of my own—a silent promise of protection.

“Stay alert,” I whispered, every sense sharpened to the possibility of danger lurking around each corner.

“Always am,” she said, her grip firm, betraying none of the fear that must have been coursing through her.

We moved as one entity, a symbiosis born of necessity, yet underpinned by something deeper, something unspoken that crackled between us like a static charge. Every step measured, every breath synchronized as we closed in on our quarry.

But as we approached the heart of the facility, I knew the true test was upon us. With Ivor close, escape was a dream fraying at the edges, about to be torn apart by the harsh claws of reality.

“Ready?” I asked, pausing before the entrance to the main hub, my hand hovering over the blaster at my side.

“Let’s end this,” Mia said, steel in her tone, her expression resolute.

I pulled a spider-cam from the pouch at my belt, its legs twitched as I set it down. With a swift command, the device skittered forward, disappearing beneath the closed door of Ivor’s command center. The camera feed flickered to life on my wrist display, the grainy images painting a grim tableau.

Ivor Atreus stood, arrogance personified in his tailored suit, posture relaxed yet commanding. Beside him, a shadow detached from the wall—Griff Halden, muscles coiled, eyes sharp as flint. My heart sank like a stone in deep water; Griff was loyalty and lethality, wrapped in one imposing package.

“Damn,” I cursed under my breath, watching the mercenary’s every move through the camera’s eye.

“What is it?” Mia’s voice was a whisper, her face a mask of concern in the dim corridor light.

“Griff,” I said, the name tasting like bile. “The best mercenary in the sector, and he’s glued to Ivor’s side.”

Her eyes widened, understanding the weight of the situation as she peered over my shoulder at the display.

“Can we get past him?”

“Griff’s not someone you simply ‘get past’,” I replied, feeling the weight of my respect for the man clash with the imperative need to protect Mia. “But I’ll do what I must.”

“Then what’s the plan?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a small act of defiance against the chaos that awaited us.

“Stay out of sight, stay alive.” I locked eyes with her, trying to convey all the things I couldn’t say out loud. “If things go bad, I want you hidden. Promise me that.”

Her nod was firm, but her lips pressed into a thin line. I knew she hated the idea of staying back, but this wasn’t the time for arguments.

“Promise,” she whispered.

“Good.” I took a deep breath, the recycled air of the facility filling my lungs, smelling faintly of metal and fear. “Let’s go.”

We crept closer, our shadows merging with the darkness as we approached the door. My hand hovered above the panel, ready to key in the sequence that would bring us face-to-face with destiny. A shiver ran down my spine, anticipation and dread mingling like bitter cocktails in my veins.

“Stay close,” I said, and with a last glance at Mia, whose determination mirrored my own, I pressed the button.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss.

The room was a maelstrom of activity, the hum of machinery and staccato beeps of consoles creating a discordant symphony. But every sound faded to silence as we burst in. Me—a towering figure clad in black—and Mia, following close behind before ducking beneath a desk.

“She’s supposed to be dead.” Ivor’s voice cut through the tension, his finger pointing directly at Mia’s chosen hiding spot. His silhouette loomed like a specter over the array of monitors that bathed him in an eerie glow.

“Keep quiet,” I mouthed to Mia, my eyes never leaving Ivor. She nodded, her green eyes wide but resolute.

Griff stepped forward, blocking Ivor’s view, his imposing form a testament to battles fought and survived. “What brings you here, Cikarius? You rarely meet with the client in person.”

“Step out of the way.” My voice was calm, measured, but the edge was there, sharp enough to slice through the charged atmosphere. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I have to.” The memory of past camaraderie with Griff flashed, unwelcome. Now was not the time for sentimentality.

“Can’t do that,” he said, the hint of regret in his tone almost imperceptible.

“Then it’ll be your last mistake.” I narrowed my eyes at Ivor. “You’re going to withdraw the contract on Mia.”

Ivor’s laugh was bitter and hollow. “Not likely.”

The air between us crackled, charged with the inevitability of conflict. I could feel Mia’s gaze on us, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of what was at stake.

“Last chance, Ivor.” My hand hovered near the weapon concealed within my coat, ready to draw in one fluid motion.

“Make me,” Ivor sneered, confident in his stronghold.

“Very well,” I said, and in the next heartbeat, the room erupted into chaos.

I pulled the evidence from my coat, a thin data-slate that glowed faintly against the dim lighting of Ivor’s command center. With a flick of my wrist, the images and documents of his treachery splashed across the wall: transactions, communications, all pointing to one undeniable fact—Ivor Atreus was guilty.

“Corporate espionage, Ivor? And the hit on Mia—” Griff scanned the evidence, disbelief etching lines into his weathered face. “You told me the contract was on a gang leader supplying weapons to kids.”

“Griff,” Ivor began, his voice dipped in honeyed tones of reassurance, “you know how these things can be misconstrued. Documents can be forged; images altered.”

“Step out of the way,” I repeated, ignoring Ivor’s attempts at deceit. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and tension.

“Does she look like a gang leader to you?” I asked Griff, motioning toward the desk. “Mia, stand up.”

She rose slowly, her silhouette framed by the pulsating screens behind her. Her green eyes locked onto Griff’s, an unspoken plea within them.

“I’m a botanist working for Ivor’s competition,” she said, her voice steady despite the situation.

“Enough.” Ivor’s attempt at maintaining an air of control was slipping as he glanced nervously between us. “This is preposterous. Cikarius has always been a loose cannon. Are we really going to believe the word of a genetically engineered weapon who’s abandoned his own kind?”

“Is that so?” My response was cool, unflinching. I stepped closer, the data-slate in hand, presenting cold, hard facts that left no room for doubt. “The timestamps don’t lie, Ivor. Your transactions coincide perfectly with cyber attacks on her employer’s computers. Mia’s only crime was being too good at her job.”

Griff shifted, the weight of the truth settling onto his shoulders. He glanced from Ivor to Mia, then back to me. The standoff teetered on the brink—the next move would tip the scales.

“Think about it, Griff. You’ve been played.” The words hung in the air, a final testament to Ivor’s deceit.

The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor, mirroring the darkness that had settled over us. In the corner of the room, the soft hum of machinery underscored the silence that followed.

“Let’s end this,” I said, a silent prayer that Griff would make the right choice.

The tension was a live wire, ready to ignite. Every sense was heightened—the metallic taste of anticipation on my tongue, the sound of distant footsteps echoing like a countdown, the smell of fear mingling with determination.

“Griff?” Ivor’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with the poison of betrayal.

We waited, breaths held, as the moment stretched into infinity.

Griff’s eyes, hard as the steel of his blade, met mine. The mercenary who had faced down death without flinching now stood at a crossroads, his allegiance tested. His jaw clenched; the decision written in the tightening of his fists.

“Your move, Griff,” Ivor said, voice smooth as silk and just as suffocating.

The mercenary’s gaze flickered to Mia, her presence a silent accusation, a beacon of truth amidst the murk of lies. He took a step back, not in surrender but in defiance, aligning himself beside me without uttering a word.

“Damn you,” Ivor spat, the facade crumbling. He tapped his wrist device with a fury that betrayed his composure.

I braced myself, every muscle tensed for what was to come. The door burst open behind Ivor, and a squadron of mercenaries poured into the room like a flood of dark intent.

“Circle up!” I said, pulling Mia close. My hand found the grip of my weapon with practiced ease.

Griff moved like a shadow, fluid and deadly, positioning himself back-to-back with me. The air crackled with the electricity of impending combat, the weight of destiny pressing down upon us.

“Take them!” Ivor commanded, his voice slicing through the tension.

Silent understanding passed between Griff and me. We were warriors forged in different fires, now tempered by a common cause. The mercenaries advanced, a closing ring of malice.

“Stay behind me,” I whispered to Mia, hoping she could feel the promise in my words. Her soft exhale brushed against my neck, a whisper of trust amidst the chaos.

The first assailant lunged, a blur of motion aimed at my heart. I sidestepped, turning his momentum against him, my hand striking with lethal precision. He crumpled to the ground, a silent testament to my resolve.

“Watch out!” Griff’s warning came just in time, his arm knocking aside an attack meant for my side.

We moved as one, a dance of destruction under the cold glow of florescent lights. Sweat beaded on my brow. The scent of metal and fear filled the air, and the sounds of combat—the clash of weapons, the thud of bodies—became a symphony of survival.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through me as I caught the glint of a blade swinging towards my face. With a swift pivot, I caught the wrist of the mercenary, turning the momentum to send him sprawling. His weapon clattered across the floor, slipping into the darkness.

“Go, Mia! Now!” My voice was a command, an anchor in the storm of violence swirling around us. I needed her safe, needed her brilliance shielded from the brutality that was my world.

Out of the corner of my eye, through a haze of exertion, I saw her silhouette darting toward the console. Her fingertips darted from key to key, a dance of urgency and intelligence. The screen flickered, data streaming through the ether to her boss, her salvation—and mine—within reach.

Another attacker charged, his snarl lost in the cacophony. I met him head-on, my fist connecting with a satisfying crunch against his jaw. He staggered, surprise etching his features before he collapsed.

“Good work,” Griff said beside me, taking down another assailant with calculated ferocity. Despite the chaos, a part of me appreciated the irony—Griff, once a potential enemy, was now an ally by choice.

The room echoed with the clash of combat, every strike a note in our desperate symphony. I fought not just for survival but for a future that, until recently, I hadn’t dared to envision—one where Mia was more than just a mission, more than just a target. She was the unexpected variable that had recalculated my entire existence.

“Data’s sent!” Mia’s triumphant cry cut through the fray, a beacon of hope.

“Stay down!” I called out, taking down another mercenary. My body moved on instinct, each movement honed by years of training, each breath a testament to my newfound purpose.

And then it was over. The last of Ivor’s mercenaries lay defeated at my feet, their bodies a testament to the deadly skills that had once defined me. But now, standing amid the wreckage of battle, I felt reborn—a protector forged from the ashes of an assassin.

My gaze found Mia, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and admiration. In that moment, as our eyes locked, something unspoken passed between us. A silent vow that no matter what came next, her life was mine to defend.

“Time to make this right,” I growled, advancing on Ivor, who cowered against the wall, his bravado evaporated.

“What are you going to do?” Ivor asked.

“Rescind it,” I demanded, my voice a low growl.

Ivor hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his sharp features. Trying to assess my next move. In all the years I’d been a hit man, a contract had only been rescinded twice.

With a movement swift as the predatory creatures of this moon, I seized his arm, pressing the cold muzzle of my plasma pistol against his temple. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed under the coercion of undeniable defeat.

“Fine,” Ivor spat out, and his fingers slogged over his wrist device with a reluctance that tasted like venom on my genetically enhanced tongue. My device buzzed against my skin, the contract cancellation flashing up with sterile finality. A sigh escaped me, relief mingling with the understanding that there would be no turning back.

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it.

Despite Ivor’s fear, the arms dealer glared at me.

“Goodbye, Ivor.” My voice was devoid of emotion, a perfect reflection of the void where my humanity should have been. Yet, as I pulled the trigger, extinguishing the life of the man who marked Mia for death, I felt a surge of something fierce and protective, an emotion that transcended my genetically engineered origins.

Ivor crumpled to the ground, the sound of his body hitting the hard floor drowned by the shocked gasps from Mia and Griff. The deed was done. I turned back to Mia, my heart beating to the rhythm of her name. She looked at me, her expression a complex weave of terror, gratitude, and something deeper, more intimate.

Griff frowned, surveying the room, his loyalty to the Sionagog Syndicate now a distant memory compared to the justice unfolding before him. “He cancelled the contract.”

“Yes.” My voice was steady, the decision made long before Ivor’s death. “And the second I let him go, he’d issue another one.” There was no place for mercy on this battlefield, not when Mia’s life hung in the balance.

A rustle of movement, and Mia was there, running into my arms. Her warmth against my body was a stark contrast to the cold resolve that still pulsed through my veins. She clung to me, her presence a soothing balm to the adrenaline that had yet to ebb from my system.

“Thank you,” she said against my chest, her words carrying the weight of our shared ordeal.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” I said, aware of the many dangers still lurking in the shadows of Dufair. “But you’re safe—for now.”

Her breath hitched, a silent echo of my own racing heart. Pulling back slightly, Mia searched my eyes, and I saw the reflection of my turmoil mirrored in hers. Our lips met in an intimate and passionate kiss, the taste of her mingling with the metallic tang of battle still fresh on my tongue. The scent of her hair, a faint reminder of the luminescent flora she adored, cut through the acrid smoke that lingered in the air.

The kiss deepened, and the world around us faded into obscurity. There was only Mia, with her soft curves pressed against the hard lines of my body. Her hands roamed over the contours of my back, tracing the muscles honed by years of combat, now tensed with a different kind of anticipation.

“Look at what we’ve done,” she said, pulling away just enough to gesture at the chaos surrounding us. The fallen mercenaries, the blinking lights on the consoles, the distant hum of machinery.

“We did what we had to,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. “But it’s not over yet.”

Her eyes, green and alive with a fire that matched the bioluminescent canopy outside, held mine. In them, I saw more than gratitude—I saw a shared victory, a bond forged in the crucible of danger that neither of us could deny.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, already scanning for the quickest escape route. “We have evidence to deliver, and a galaxy to convince.”

Mia nodded, resolve steeling her delicate features. “Together.”

“Always,” I promised, sealing our pact with another searing kiss that spoke of battles yet to come and nights spent in each other’s arms. “We’ll continue this once we’re safe on the station.”