Page 6

CHAPTER 6

ORIYN

C ora sits in my office, my blazer draped over her shoulders like a makeshift shield. She cradles the coffee cup in her hands, steam curling up to her face. Her green eyes are sharp, curious, not the wide, panicked stare I expected after a run-in with a grolgath. She’s tougher than she looks. I like that.

“So, you’re not really a businessman at all?” she asks, her tone light but probing. She’s testing the waters, trying to figure out how much she can push.

“I’m as much a businessman as I am a soldier,” I say, leaning back in my chair. The leather creaks under my weight. “Veritas needs money to function. Someone has to make sure the coffers don’t run dry. That’s me.”

She tilts her head, her brown hair brushing against the collar of my blazer. “And the grolgath? They’re the bad guys, right?”

“From humanity’s perspective, yes. They’re here to manipulate your timeline, to ensure Earth falls under their control in the future. Veritas is here to stop them.”

She laughs, a short, incredulous sound. “Well, that’s a lot to unpack. So, in the future, Earth and Vakuta are allies?”

“Yes.” I nod, my golden scales catching the light. “And if we do our jobs right, it stays that way.”

She takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving mine. “Alright, Mr. Weller. Sir. If you’re really an alien working for a secret organization protecting Earth’s timeline… what do you want with me?”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. My voice is low, deliberate. “You’re sharp, Cora. Smarter than most humans I’ve met. Veritas needs people like you—people who can think on their feet, who don’t panic when the world turns upside down. You proved that today.”

She raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on her lips. “So, what? I’m your new recruit?”

“You’re a potential recruit,” I correct her. “This isn’t a decision to make lightly. If you join Veritas, your life changes. Permanently.”

She sets the coffee cup down on the desk, her fingers drumming lightly against the surface. “And if I say no?”

“Then you walk away. But you’ll never know what you could’ve been a part of.”

She leans back in her chair, her gaze thoughtful. “You’re not exactly selling it, you know.”

“I’m not here to sell it,” I say, my voice firm. “I’m here to give you the truth. The choice is yours.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her fingers still tapping rhythmically. Then she looks up at me, her green eyes steady. “Alright, Mr. Weller. Sir. I’m in.”

I keep my face neutral, but inside, something loosens in my chest. She’s still here. She’s staying. I don’t know why that matters so much, but it does.

“This isn’t a game,” I rumble, my voice low and steady. “It’s life and death. What you experienced tonight, with a grolgath attempting to kill you? It will likely happen again. Many times.”

She purses her lips, her fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. For a moment, I think she’ll back out. But then she squares her shoulders and meets my gaze head-on. “I’m still in.”

“Very well,” I say, nodding once. “Welcome to Veritas.”

Her eyes narrow, and she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “That’s it? You aren’t going to teach me a secret handshake or anything? What happens now?”

“Now,” I say, standing and moving around the desk, “we continue much as we did before. We still have a business empire to run, in order to keep Veritas and other altruistic projects funded. But your duties will…expand.”

Her face lights up, and she leans forward, her green eyes sparkling. “Do I get a raygun? Or a jetpack?”

I can’t help it—I laugh, a deep, rumbling sound that surprises even me. But then I force my expression back into something stern. “You do, in fact, need to learn to use weaponry if you’re going to serve the cause.”

She grins. “Rayguns it is, then.”

“Not so fast,” I say, walking over to the far wall where I’ve set up a dartboard. I grab a set of darts and hold them out to her. “This will help you build the hand-eye coordination necessary to wield a plasma weapon.”

She raises an eyebrow but takes the darts, bouncing one in her palm like she’s weighing its potential. “Darts? Really?”

“Start small,” I say, crossing my arms. “Accuracy is accuracy.”

She steps up to the line I’ve marked on the floor, her brow furrowed in concentration. She takes a deep breath, pulls her arm back, and throws the dart. It hits the wall two feet to the left of the board, ricochets off, and bounces off my head.

I blink, the sting barely registering. She claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

I pluck the dart from the floor and hold it up, my expression deadpan. “Or maybe we could just skip the darts.”

Cora rubs her stomach with a dramatic groan. “I might be able to throw better if I weren’t so hungry. Just saying.”

I glance at her, one eyebrow raised. “Are you blaming your terrible aim on your stomach now?”

She grins, unapologetic. “Absolutely. Food first, darts later.”

I stand, gesturing toward the door. “Fine. Let’s get you fed.”

The elevator ride down to the ground floor is quiet, but I can feel her watching me from the corner of my eye. She’s trying to figure me out, piece by piece. I don’t mind. Let her try.

When the doors open, my cherry-red Ferrari is waiting at the curb, its sleek lines gleaming under the city lights. Cora whistles low and long. “What part of driving fancy cars helps save the timeline?”

I chuckle, unlocking the car with a press of the key fob. “One must keep up appearances.”

She slides into the passenger seat, running her hand over the leather upholstery. “You must be really good at appearances, then.”

“I try,” I say, settling into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life, a low growl that vibrates through the car. I glance at her. “Buckle up.”

She does, but the grin on her face tells me she’s ready for whatever I throw at her. I hit the gas, and the car leaps forward, weaving through the city streets with precision. The city blurs around us, and I show off a little, taking the turns sharp and fast.

Cora laughs, gripping the door handle. “You drive like my parents drive fifty-five miles an hour everywhere.”

I glance at her, my lips curling into a smirk. “Do I look like your father?”

She tilts her head, her grin widening. “No, but you look like you could be my Daddy.”

My foot slips off the accelerator for a split second, the car jerking slightly before I regain control. I glance sharply at her, but she’s staring out the window, her face serene except for the shit-eating grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Cora,” I say, my voice low and careful, “are you messing with me?”

She turns to face me, her green eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t know, Mr. Weller. Sir. Am I?”

I don’t answer, focusing on the road instead. But the air between us feels charged, like she’s just thrown a spark into dry tinder. And neither of us is sure if it’s going to catch fire or fizzle out.

The diner buzzes with the hum of conversation and the clatter of plates. Cora is already halfway through a basket of wings, her fingers slick with sauce, when she turns to me with a question that makes me pause mid-sip of my coffee.

“So, are there, like, girl Vakutans?” she asks, her mouth half-full.

I set the cup down, wiping the steam off my hand. “Yes. Male and female, like most galactic species. Though I’ll admit, the concept of gender isn’t a universal constant across the cosmos.”

Her eyes widen, and she leans forward, ignoring the smear of sauce on her cheek. “Wait, how many alien species are out there?”

“Hundreds of thousands,” I say, leaning back in the booth. The vinyl creaks under my weight. “And probably ten times that number yet to be discovered. The universe is... vast.”

She stares at me, her wings forgotten. “That’s... insane. I mean, I knew you weren’t from around here, but... hundreds of thousands? That’s mind-blowing.”

“It is,” I agree. “And humanity is just one thread in a much larger tapestry.”

She wipes her hands on a napkin, her expression thoughtful. “Do you have any family? Like, back home?”

“My mother is alive,” I say, turning my coffee cup in my hands. “My father died in the Centuries War, shortly after I was born. I never knew him.”

Her hand reaches across the table, her fingers brushing mine. “That must be hard.”

I squeeze her hand, the warmth of her touch grounding me. “He died honorably. That counts for something.”

She nods, her green eyes soft with understanding. But then she tilts her head, her curiosity piqued again. “So, just your parents? No other family?”

“No,” I say, my voice steady. “Just them.”

She pokes at the remaining wings in the basket, not looking at me. “Nobody at all in your life? Nobody... special?”

I feel the weight of her question settle between us, heavy and unspoken. My heart aches, a deep pang I haven’t felt in centuries. I stare at her. “There might be.”

Her head snaps up, her eyes sharp and searching. “Who?”

I hold her gaze, my chest tight. “Can’t you guess?”

The diner fades around us, the noise of the world muffled. Her lips part, but no words come out. The air between us crackles, electric and unspoken. She doesn’t look away, and neither do I.

I leave a stack of hundreds on the table without fanfare, the bills crisp and unceremonious. Cora’s eyes flick to the money, then to me, one brow arched. “You know that’s excessive, right?”

“I don’t do things by halves,” I say, standing and extending my hand to her. She takes it without hesitation, her palm warm against mine. We walk out of the diner, the night air cool and alive with the hum of the city. Her hair’s a little disheveled, and I can’t resist smoothing it back, my fingers brushing against her temple. She looks up at me, her green eyes sharp, expectant.

“What?” she asks, her voice soft but edged with curiosity.

I don’t answer with words. Instead, I lean down, my lips meeting hers in a kiss that starts tender, almost hesitant. But the moment her hands grip the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, something in me snaps. The kiss deepens, turns hungry, her mouth hot and insistent against mine. My hands slide to her waist, pulling her flush against me. She’s smaller than me, so much smaller, but she meets me with a fierceness that makes my head spin.

We break apart briefly, both of us gasping for air, but then her lips are on mine again, her fingers threading through my hair. I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but kiss her like she’s the only thing anchoring me to this world. My hands roam her back, her hips, pulling her impossibly closer. She’s all heat and softness, and I’m drowning in her.

“Excuse me!” A sharp voice cuts through the haze, and we both jerk apart. The diner’s manager stands a few feet away, arms crossed, her expression a mix of disapproval and amusement. “This is a family establishment. Take the, uh, enthusiasm somewhere else.”

Cora bursts out laughing, her cheeks flushed, and I chuckle too. “Sorry,” I say, though I don’t mean it, not really. Cora’s still giggling as I guide her to the car, my hand resting on the small of her back.

The drive to her house is quiet, the air between us charged. I can still taste her on my lips, feel the weight of her hands on my shoulders. She glances at me, her smile soft and knowing.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “when can I see you again?”

“You’re going to see me tomorrow at work,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the road.

She rolls her eyes, her grin widening. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

I glance at her, my lips twitching. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Her laugh fills the car, light and unburdened, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard in centuries. We pull up to her house, and she unbuckles her seatbelt, turning to face me. “Goodnight, Mr. Weller. Sir.”

“Goodnight, Cora,” I say, my voice low.

She leans in, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to my cheek before slipping out of the car. I watch her walk up to the house, her hips swaying slightly, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. The memory of her lips on mine lingers all the way home, a spark I can’t—and don’t want to—extinguish.