Page 61 of Thexan

“That answer places you at greater risk.”

“Thexan.”

He accepted the warning in my voice. “I intended to reach a cyborg-protected territory or a settlement with access to their network. The information I carry must leave this region.”

“What information?”

“Locations. Names. Operational routes. Evidence that Mesaarkan loyalist cells remain active on Earth.”

My hand went still on the bandage.

“And you brought that here?”

“No,” he said, his voice quiet but absolute. “I was wounded before I reached my intended destination. I came here because my body identified the nearest structure where survival remained possible.”

“Because of the infirmary?”

His gaze held mine.

“Because of you.”

Outside, the settlement continued as it always had, unchanged and unaware.

Inside, everything had shifted, and for the first time since I had opened my door and found him there, I wasn’t thinking about how to survive what came next.

I was thinking about what it would mean to build a life around it.

Once the bleeding had slowed, I made him move again.

Not far. Just through the side door into the old second classroom, the one I used when someone needed to recover without being watched by every person who came through the infirmary. It still had shelves along one wall and a cracked slate board I had never bothered to take down, but there was space enough for a wider cot and a stove that held heat better than the main room.

It wasn’t comfortable.

It was private, defensible, and large enough that Thexan could lie down without looking as though the furniture had been built for another species.

For now, that was all I could offer him.

Chapter Fourteen

Brynn

I should have known we wouldn’t have long before someone noticed.

At first, it wasn’t anything obvious. No alarms sounded, no one came running, and the settlement didn’t erupt into panic the way it would have if real danger had been visible. The change was quieter than that, subtle enough that most people would have missed it if they weren’t used to paying attention to the rhythms of a place like this.

But I noticed.

The movement outside the infirmary shifted just enough to catch my attention. Voices carried differently, softer and more contained, and the steady flow of people moving from one task to the next slowed in a way that didn’t belong to routine. It was the kind of change that only happened when something unfamiliar slipped into a system that depended on predictability to survive.

People weren’t reacting yet.

They were watching.

“They’re aware,” Thexan said.

I didn’t turn immediately. I didn’t need to. The shift in the air outside had already confirmed it, and hearing him say it only anchored what I was already beginning to understand.

“Not completely,” I said, keeping my voice low even though the door remained closed. “But they know something’s different.”