Page 1 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)

Nyla

KATAR STATION WAS SUPPOSED to be safe. A place to lie low for a few days. Somewhere nobody asked questions as long as you paid in full.

Turns out, the galaxy was full of liars.

“You could have chosen a less conspicuous entry point,” Nav chimed from my wrist device as I slipped through the maintenance hatch. “Security logs indicated three separate scans of your biometric signature in the last hour.”

I pulled my jacket collar higher, concealing the small lump where Zep curled around my neck. The little Laupin’s warmth was the only comfort in this chilly station. “Noted. Now shut up before someone hears you.”

“I am communicating directly through your neural implant. No one can hear me except you, which you would know if you’d bothered reading the manual I—”

“Mute,” I whispered, and blessed silence followed.

I melted into the crowd, moving through Katar’s central market.

The sprawling bazaar teemed with species from across the galaxy—perfect for disappearing.

Merchants hawked everything from illegal tech mods to exotic fruits that changed color when touched.

The mingled scents of cooking meat, engine exhaust, and too many bodies pressed together made my nose wrinkle.

The ship I’d stowed away on would be leaving soon. I needed supplies, credits and a plan—in that order. The bar at the edge of the market would work for now.

I slipped onto a stool and ordered something cheap. The bartender, a four-armed Quaxian with bored eyes, slid a glass of purple liquid toward me. I lifted it to my lips without drinking, using the moment to scan the room.

That’s when I heard it.

My name.

Not shouted. Not spoken. Whispered.

Passed between traders, quiet and deadly, like a virus spreading through the market.

“...Nyla...”

I froze, glass halfway to my mouth. They’d found me.

A cold prickle crawled up my spine. I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to react. Not to run, not yet.

I knew this feeling. The moment before a hunt began. That quiet, suffocating stillness in the air. A tightening in my ribs, my instincts screaming move. I’d felt it before. More than once.

I spotted one guy near the docking bay entrance. The second by the market stalls. Both human. Both carrying blasters poorly concealed under light jackets. Both scanning the faces in the crowd.

Vask’s men. Had to be.

I lowered my glass, left a credit chip on the counter, and stood. Casual. Unhurried. Just another traveler finishing her drink.

Zep stirred against my neck, his tiny claws pricking my skin in warning. He sensed the danger, too.

I reactivated Nav with a tap to my wrist. “Need an escape route.”

“So we’re speaking again?” came the dry response. “How delightful.”

“Nav—”

“Fine. Calculating optimal escape routes.” A pause. “You have three viable options. The maintenance corridor to your left offers seventy-eight percent probability of successful evasion.”

I slipped into the corridor, quickening my pace once I was out of sight. The narrow passage was dimly lit, smelling of engine grease and recycled air. My boots barely made a sound as I navigated the twisting route.

“Take the next right,” Nav instructed. “Proceed up the service ladder to level four.”

I followed, muscles burning as I climbed. Nearly there. Just a few more levels and I could reach the secondary docking bay. Maybe find another ship to stow away on. Maybe—

The blast came out of nowhere.

Sharp agonizing pain tore through my side. I stumbled, nearly falling from the ladder as the shot grazed my ribs. Blood immediately soaked my shirt, warm and slick.

I looked down. One of Vask’s men stood at the bottom of the ladder, blaster raised for another shot.

No time to think. I launched myself upward, ignoring the screaming pain in my side. Another blast hit the wall beside me, showering sparks across my face.

I hauled myself onto the upper level, rolling away from the opening as a third shot followed.

“You are injured,” Nav observed unnecessarily. “Blood loss at current rate gives you approximately forty-seven minutes before loss of consciousness.”

“Thanks,” I gasped, pressing my palm against the wound. Not deep enough to kill me. Not yet. But if I didn’t get off this station soon, that might change.

I forced myself to my feet, staggering forward. “New route. Now!”

“Recalculating. Head north. Alternative path to docking bay seven.”

By the time I reached the upper levels, my window was shrinking. Blood dripped between my fingers, leaving a trail I couldn’t hide. My vision blurred at the edges, focus coming and going with each labored breath.

I cut through another maintenance corridor, breath quick, feet not as silent as I needed them to be. My ribs screamed in protest, but I pushed through.

Almost there.

“This is a terrible idea,” Nav chimed in again, its tone somehow even more unimpressed than usual. “You’re bleeding. And your current heart rate suggests you have less than a fifteen percent chance of escaping unscathed.”

“Yeah? Well, fifteen percent is better than zero, so shut up and let me focus.”

“Statistically speaking, it would be far more efficient to surrender now and mitigate further injury.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fantastic. I’ll be sure to pass that strategy along to my captors while they kill me.”

Zep let out a soft, warning trill, his small, warm body shifting uneasily against my skin.

“Not helping, Nav,” I muttered. “And Zep, don’t start. I know we’re screwed.”

The little creature pressed his tiny claws into my collarbone, a reassuring presence despite his size.

Stowing away again was off the table.

That ship would already be crawling with security.

I had two choices: steal a ship or die trying.

And that’s when I saw it. Docking Bay Seven. A small transport. Sleek. Dark. Unguarded.

No alarms flashing. No armed crew standing watch. And the idiot had left the ramp down.

Lucky me.

I moved fast, darting forward, keeping low as I slipped inside. The ship’s interior was dimly lit, quiet. “This could work,” I muttered, because apparently, I was an optimist now.

“This is a bad idea,” Nav commented, unimpressed. “Correction: this is your worst idea yet.”

“You’re supposed to help, not criticize.”

“I’m an outdated navigation AI with limited ethical subroutines. You stole me, remember? You don’t get to complain about my bedside manner.”

I ignored it, staggering toward the cockpit.

One problem.

I was losing too much blood.

The edges of my vision blurred as I collapsed into the pilot’s seat. Focus. Override the system. Get the engines running. Get the hell out .

My fingers tapped at the controls, but not steady enough. Navigation systems locked. Access denied. I groaned, slumping back. Of course, it was locked. The universe hated me.

“Nav? Override the damn system.”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Accessing... Oh, look at that. Locked by primary user authorization. What a shock. It’s almost as if you don’t own this ship.”

“I hate you.”

“Noted. Accessing...”

“If I can just get the engines running and get us out the doors before...”

I slid into the pilot’s seat, fingers flying across the panel. For one flickering second, everything responded. Lights blinked to life, systems began to hum.

Maybe—just maybe—I could do this.

Footsteps echoed from the ramp.

My pulse slammed into my ribs.

Someone was coming.

Shit.

I grabbed my blaster, forcing myself to stand. My knees buckled, the world tilted, and I barely managed to stay upright.

Not now.

A shadow loomed at the entrance. Tall. Broad. Not one of Vask’s men. The ship’s owner.

Double shit.

He stepped into view, backlit by the station lights. Alaran. His turquoise skin was a giveaway. Tall as hell. Strong build. Dark hair. Midnight blue eyes.

I lifted my blaster. “Turn around and walk away.”

He arched a brow. “You do realize you’re on my ship?”

I tightened my grip, ignoring the way my fingers trembled. “Last warning.”

His gaze flicked to the blaster. Then to my bleeding side. Then back to my face.

“You planning to pass out before or after you steal the ship?”

Annoying. He was annoyingly calm.

Then, to make things worse my fingers trembled, then slipped. The blaster clattered onto the metal floor. The world spun. The floor tilted up to meet me as I collapsed.

And the last thing I saw before darkness took me was a pair of powerful arms reaching for me.

And Zep launching at the guy’s face.

“Oh, wonderful,” Nav muttered as my vision blacked out. “This should go well.”