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I decide to ignore my fears. Iknowhe’s okay. Hehasto be.
But Iwon’t scream yet, though. I’ll only get one good shot at deploying my lone remaining weapon to optimal effect. No point wasting a perfectly ear-piercing squeal when there’s no help near enough to intervene on my behalf.
But soon, brute… soon.
Keep bumbling directionless through this labyrinth with your helpless little captive. Let confidence make you careless. I’ll be poised to exploit that first fleeting instant of incaution, you just see if I don’t!
So for now I merely repay his rough handling in kind, wriggling and straining nonstop against his clutches like a worm on a hook. Let him expend his finite energy fighting to retain his prize. Maybe he will eventually exhaust himself trying to grapple an unwilling armful of angry female.
Because I absolutelyrefuseto make this easy for him. M’ijel didn’t teach me to use every trick at my disposal for nothing.
We’ll just see who tires out first, shall we? I can writhe as energetically as a greased piglet all day if I must! No one said I had to act the docile damsel in this poorly planned abduction scene.
M’ijel
The corridors stretch out like a tangled web, their design as enigmatic as the Game itself. I race through them, each stride fueled by a mix of desperation and resolve.
The blow I took earlier still throbs dully in my shoulder, but I push through the pain. My inherited speed healing kicks in, adapting, preparing me for what’s to come.
This is what I am trained for —to endure, to overcome.
Navigating the labyrinth of the power station is a challenge. The layout defies all logic, with its strange open areas and seemingly infinite corridors. But there’s an underlying order to it, a pattern discernible to those who let instinct guide them.
I let my feet move with purpose, trusting in the primal part of me that understands this place better than my conscious mind ever could.
I reason that the alien abductor would choose the most direct path — a straight line, the quickest way to his destination. But the corridors here aren’t straight; they curve, winding in a maddening pattern.
If my guess is correct, he would have emerged on the east side of the station, not the south as you would expect. And if I’m right, I’m now cutting right through the heart of this place, moving towards where he’s headed. There’s a chance I could even get there ahead of him.
If I’m right.
But proximity isn’t enough. The male could be near, and I still might not know it. I need Zoey to make a sound, any sound, to guide me to her.
I strain my ears, listening for the faintest hint of her presence. The silence of the corridors weighs heavily on me, each second stretching out like an eternity.
Every tick of the clock is a moment the alien could use to mate with Zoey. The thought twists my insides, igniting a fury that burns hot and fierce.
The veryideaof him touching her, Claiming her, fills me with a visceral disgust. This isn’t just about the game anymore.
This ispersonal.
Despite the ache in my limbs, I push myself to move faster. The corridors blur past me, a dizzying tunnel of metal and light. I’m a predator on the hunt, driven by a singular goal — to find Zoey, to save her from the clutches of that monster.
The air grows thick with tension as I delve deeper into the station. Every corner I turn, every door I pass, feels like a potential ambush point.
I’m alert, ready for anything — ready to fight, to kill if I have to. This is no longer just a survival game; it’s a war, one I intend to win.
And then, suddenly, I hear it — a faint sound, almost lost in the echo of my own footsteps. It’s Zoey’s voice — a soft, muffled cry as if she’s in pain.
It cuts through the silence like a beacon. I pivot, zeroing in on the sound, my heart pounding in my chest.
Hold on, Zoey,I say to myself as I sprint towards her voice.I’m coming.
Zoey
I’m trapped in the alien’s grip, his large hand encircling my waist like a vice. I can feel his frustration as he navigates the twisting corridors, his growls resonating through his chest into mine.
Despite the dire situation, there’s a flicker of hope. He’s lost, unsure of the direction, and that’s good news for me.
