Page 56 of Alien’s Retrieved Mate

"Yes."

She stood, not angry exactly. The bond between us was a live wire, but the emotion coming through it was not accusation. It was pressure. Too much information, too much future, too much of my fear pressing against hers until the room felt too small for both of us.

"I care about you," she said, and the words struck me harder than any weapon. "That is not the problem. The problem is that choosing you and surviving alien bureaucracy are currently using the same air."

"Taylor."

"You told me the truth. You didn't hide it. You didn't make me drag it out of you. I noticed that, and it matters." She grabbed the multitool, shoved it back on her belt, and pulled on the spare too-big boots Zhara had dug out for her. "But I need enough space to sort out which feelings are mine without your fear pressing against them."

"Where are you going?"

"To find Zhara. And maybe a drink. And a corner of the galaxy where nobody is asking me to decide my whole life in the next five minutes."

She stopped at the door. Looked back at me. Sad, frightened, steady.

"I'm coming back," she said. "I just need to breathe first."

She walked out. The door shut behind her.

I stood in the empty room. My markings were still blazing but the light felt wrong — too bright for a room this dim, too hot for a chest this hollow. But underneath the hollowness: a small, stubborn warmth. She had noticed. She had said it mattered. The pattern was broken. Not enough to fix the impossible choice in front of her — but enough to keep me from losing her trust while she made it.

She had asked for distance and I had decided to give it to her. I pinged Zhara instead: She is walking. Keep her in sight. The reply came back inside a minute — Eyes on her. Go be miserable somewhere else — and I let that be enough.

The communication unit chimed. Encrypted channel. Restricted bandwidth.

I answered. Static resolved into Zhara's voice, low and controlled.

"She's in the cantina with me," Zhara said. "Overwhelmed, drinking something terrible, but safe for the moment."

Relief lasted exactly one breath.

"For the moment?"

"Security scanner just caught a Saurok transport requesting docking clearance at the station. Small vessel. Retrieval class."

Retrieval class. There was only one thing on this station worth retrieving.

"Draxis?"

"No visual confirmation yet, but the ship profile matches known hunter-class patterns. Station authority denied clearance. The transport turned off as if complying, then dropped a breaching pod below the west ridge, outside the pad weapons lock. Five heat signatures are moving up the service ravine toward the cantina. The clearance request pinned security on the main ship while the boarding team came in under the canyon wall. He knows she's here. I intercepted a fragment of their comms — unencrypted, which is sloppy for Saurok. Listen."

She patched it through. Static, then a voice — low, rasping, deliberate. Draxis. I had heard it once on the slave ship, barking orders in the dark. Now it was quieter, which was worse.

"The human is mine. She was taken from my ship, and recovered merchandise does not leave my manifest. If I allow this, every cargo on every route becomes negotiable. Her market category is irrelevant. What matters is what I permit."

The transmission cut. Zhara's silence said what mine did.

Draxis had moved beyond commerce into wounded pride. He would burn resources, risk a neutral outpost, cross into Valorian-monitored space because Taylor had been taken from him and the principle of ownership mattered more than the profit. He was no longer hunting merchandise; he was reasserting control.

That made him more dangerous than a businessman. Businessmen could be bought off. Men defending their authority could not.

Of course he knew she was here. A human woman from an uncontacted world, rare enough to be noteworthy in any spaceport. Valuable enough to hunt across star systems. And the Saurok had networks everywhere.

"I'm coming to you. Keep her away from exits."

"Already moving her. I called because you need to come the long way, around the market side. The service corridor is still sealed for a fuel transfer, so I have her away from the front doors until it clears."

I was already moving, already pulling armor from my pack. Through the bond, Taylor was tense and heartsore, but not afraid yet. That was the only advantage we had: Draxis's hunters had not reached her before the warning reached me.