Page 18 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
He doesn’t say it to shock me. He says it like it’s just a truth. One of a thousand he’s learned to carry without flinching.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
He shrugs again. “I’m not. It taught me to survive.”
The silence afterward isn’t heavy. It justis.
Hovercars buzz above like fireflies with purpose. Somewhere below, a couple laughs — young, drunk, oblivious. I envy them in the abstract.
“Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong in my own company,” I admit.
He says nothing, but his attention sharpens.
“I was born into it, you know? CY8. I had my first set of lab passes before I could spell cybernetic. I grew up thinking my father would live forever. That I'd have time to learn everything. Time to become… worthy.”
My throat goes tight.
“But he didn’t. And now I’m here. Fumbling. Winging it. Smiling for cameras while I try not to drown in debts and deals I barely understand.”
I didn’t mean to say all that.
Not here. Not to him.
And yet it’s out. Floating between us like one of the glowing drones humming past on silent repulsion fields.
“You’re still standing,” he says finally.
I turn to him. “That’s not the same as winning.”
“No,” he agrees. “But it’s the first part of surviving. Most people don’t make it past that.”
I meet his eyes.
Red. Steady. Not kind, exactly. Not soft.
Butsure.
And that’s scarier than anything.
Because part of me wants to lean into that certainty.
Part of me wants to fall into it.
I tear my gaze away and look down. A soft breeze brushes past, tugging at a loose curl by my cheek. Grau doesn’t move, but I can feel his focus on me like pressure on my skin.
“How do you do that?” I ask suddenly.
“Do what?”
“Look at people like you’re reading their blueprints.”
He huffs something close to a laugh. “Comes with the trade.”
I sit on the edge of the overlook railing — probably not smart, but the vertigo helps keep me anchored. “So is this part of the job?”
He tilts his head.
“Charming the CEO?” I clarify.
