Page 14 of Sold to the Nalgar (Stolen From Earth #3)

H e carried her like she weighed nothing.

One arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back, his body hard, cold, inhuman beneath the smooth armor. She didn’t struggle. What would be the point? His grip was secure, not cruel, but unyielding. There was no room for resistance, not without hurting herself in the process.

Her mind reeled with everything that had happened—the escape from the damaged ship, the way he’d severed her restraints with that humming red blade, then scooped her into his arms like she was some fragile thing worth saving.

And the landing… god.

She remembered staring through the cockpit glass, too stunned to speak.

Below them, a settlement unfolded—no, a city—like something from a dystopian dream.

Tall, angular buildings rose in jagged clusters, dark stone and pulsing metal veins giving the structures an eerie, living feel.

The style reminded her of brutalist architecture back on Earth—cold, imposing, oppressive.

Yet surrounding that bleakness, there was beauty.

She’d glimpsed shimmering rivers, snow-dusted mountains, thick green forests untouched by civilization. Nature, raw and wild and breathtaking.

Then they’d descended into the heart of the stone city, landing atop a massive parapet that jutted out from the largest building—his stronghold, she guessed. A palace? A fortress? A fucking alien castle?

Now they were inside.

And he was carrying her through vast corridors lined in stone and steel. The ceilings arched high above them, the hallways lit with soft, ambient lights embedded into the walls. No torches, no windows. Just a sterile glow that made her feel even more removed from everything she’d known.

They didn’t pass a single soul. No guards. No servants. No one at all.

It was just him.

And her.

She felt his silence more than heard it. The kind of silence that dripped with power. He didn’t need to bark orders or issue threats—his very presence said enough.

She clung to the thin robe wrapped around her, acutely aware of her bare legs, her nakedness beneath the soft fabric. The thick collar still circled her throat, smooth and foreign and humming faintly against her skin.

Panic simmered beneath the surface.

Why wasn’t she fighting? Screaming? Demanding answers?

Because the truth was, she was terrified.

He hadn’t hurt her. Not yet. But there was something worse than pain in this— this helplessness. This complete and utter loss of control. Being carried like a possession by someone so much bigger, stronger— alien —and having no say in where she was going or what would happen next.

She dared to look up at his face—or rather, his mask. A sleek, silver helm covered every inch of it, blank and unreadable. No eyes to meet. No hint of expression.

Still, she could feel his attention on her. Every movement he made was precise. Calculated. Dominant.

Warlord.

The title echoed in her mind.

This was him. The one who’d ordered her capture. Who had likely paid a fortune to secure her. The one everyone else feared and bowed to.

Now he had her.

She curled her fingers into her palms. Anger sparked beneath the fear, brief and flickering, but it was there. He’d taken her. Stripped her life away like it meant nothing.

And now she was being carried through the halls of his kingdom, wrapped in a robe and shackled by a collar, heading to a fate she couldn’t yet name.

She didn’t want to know what he had planned.

But she feared… she would find out soon.