Page 12 of Sold to the Nalgar (Stolen From Earth #3)

H e carried her through the corridors like she weighed nothing.

Her robe shifted with every step, the belt tugging loosely around her waist, her bare feet swinging just above the metal floor.

She lay stiff in his arms, still trembling from the rush of everything—the restraints, the fire in the collar, the chaos.

Her mind was fractured and floating, but her eyes. .. they watched.

They passed the green alien and the faceless ones. The same ones who had handled her like meat. Now they stood silent and still, heads bowed low.

They bow to him.

Even the squat, brutish one dipped his head without hesitation, without comment, as the warlord passed.

The message couldn’t be clearer.

He was not just feared.

He was obeyed .

Cecilia clenched her teeth, trying not to let her expression shift, not to betray the fresh curl of fear in her stomach.

They moved deeper into the vessel, through a wide corridor that hummed with the sounds of hidden systems. The lights dimmed as they went, the red becoming cooler, then white, and finally blue, casting strange shadows along the curved walls. At the end: a sealed hatch.

He didn’t slow. The door hissed open at his approach, responding to his presence without any visible command. Inside—an airlock, or something like it. The walls gleamed with dark metal. Smooth. Sleek. Quiet.

And on the other side—another ship.

Her breath caught as they crossed the threshold.

It was different .

Darker. Smaller. More refined. The previous vessel—massive and industrial—had felt cold, institutional. But this one… this one pulsed with control. Efficiency. Power. As if it had been designed not for a crew, but for a single will.

His.

This was his personal ship.

She could feel it.

Everything about it echoed his presence—the deep, matte walls, the low lighting, the faint scent of something sharp and unfamiliar in the air. Not chemical. Not human.

They stepped into the cockpit, a narrow bridge flanked by curved panels, softly glowing interfaces, and a large, wraparound viewport of clear glass. Before them lay space .

Endless.

Terrifying.

Beautiful.

She blinked, stunned, as the stars spilled across her vision, millions of them, scattered like diamonds across a velvet sea. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe properly.

And below them… a planet.

Red and white clouds swirled in slow, hypnotic spirals across its surface. Oceans gleamed in scattered patches: blue, dark, mysterious. The whole world glowed under the light of a massive red sun, suspended low in the black void.

It wasn’t Earth.

Nothing about it was Earth.

She wasn’t anywhere near Earth.

Her hands curled into the fabric of her robe, heart hollowing as the reality punched through her again.

She was light-years from home. Being taken to a place she didn’t know. By someone— something —she couldn’t understand.

And still… he said nothing.

At last, he lowered her to her feet.

There was a seat beside the pilot’s chair—minimal, cushioned, fitted with thin harness straps. He looked at her. Pointed to it.

Not violent.

Not even unkind.

Just… expectant .

As if obedience were a given.

She hesitated.

But she didn’t fight.

Not now.

Not with her heart still racing and her knees unsteady and the aftermath of near-death still coursing through her veins like fire.

She sank slowly into the seat.

And he—silent, smooth—settled into the pilot’s chair beside her. His armor creaked softly. Lights flickered across the controls, symbols she couldn’t read pulsing faintly to life under his gauntleted hands.

She couldn’t look away from the view.

The planet grew larger in the viewport. Swallowing everything. Red light bathed the cockpit in eerie glow. The ship tilted.

They began to descend.

She gripped the seat.

Because she was no longer just in space.

She was heading down.

To his world.