Page 39 of Claimed By the Condemned Alien

Dreven stepped closer to the frame and pointed to a recessed plate near the floor.

“Emergency release.”

Kesta crouched.

A narrow mechanical lever sat beneath the plate.

“It opens the outside bar?”

“If the mechanism still works.”

She looked up at him. “Still?”

“This structure predates me.”

“Very reassuring.”

“I could lie.”

“I'd know.”

Dreven's mouth curved. “Probably.”

Kesta tested the release. The outside mechanism lifted with a heavy metallic clank.

She stared at it.

Dreven crossed his arms. “Satisfied?”

“No.”

“Of course not.”

“But less dissatisfied.”

“I will treasure the distinction.”

Kesta stood.

For a moment neither spoke.

The room was quiet enough that she could hear the distant hiss of steam through the wall and the softer sounds of people settling into sleep beyond the corridor.

Dreven looked tired now.

Not weak.

Tired.

There were deeper lines beside his mouth than she had noticed in the basin, and the skin beneath his eyes had darkened with exhaustion.

He had fought, negotiated, led a patrol across lethal terrain, taken responsibility for two strangers and brought a dead woman home because Kesta insisted she mattered.

It did not erase the claim.

It did make him harder to dismiss.

“What happens now?” she asked.