Page 109 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

“With what?”

“With whatever Brakk can make explode.”

Brakk lifts one hand reluctantly. “I love being recognized for my gifts, but we are down to one directional charge, a cutter with less than half power, three smoke capsules, and the raw force of my personality.”

“That’s enough,” Anita says.

“No, scholar girl,” Brakk replies, his voice rougher than usual. “It is enough to annoy them. Maybe wound some. Maybe make them curse our ancestors. It is not enough to crack that setup clean.”

Anita turns back to me. “We are not leaving her.”

I look down at Sira. She kneels calmly, but I know calm can be a cage around terror. The collar at her throat pulses every few seconds. I know restraint devices. That one can choke, shock, silence, and perhaps kill her if someone presses the proper command.

“No,” I say.

Anita’s face changes instantly. “No?”

“No, we are not rushing in.”

“That is not what I said.”

“It is what you mean.”

“I mean we get her back.”

“And if the attempt gets you captured? If they take the archive? If they kill Brakk? If Rolaev uses Sira to draw you into the open and then takes all of you in one maneuver?” I keep my voice controlled, though each question tastes like ash. “Saving one person cannot doom everyone.”

Anita flinches as if I have struck her.

Brakk’s eyes close briefly.

I hate myself for the words even as I know they are true.

When Anita speaks again, her voice is quiet enough to be more dangerous than shouting. “You want me to weigh her against the archive.”

“I want you to survive long enough to make choices that matter.”

“That is a yes wearing armor.”

“The Choir wants the archive. Rolaev wants your mind uncertain and your emotions exposed. She took Sira because she knew you would run toward her.”

“I am not a lab animal behaving according to stimulus.”

“No, you are a grieving woman whose compassion Rolaev is using as terrain.”

Anita pulls her wrist from my hand. “And what are you using?”

The question lands wrong, too sharp to deflect.

I look at her. “What does that mean?”

“It means you keep making tactical arguments that sound very noble and disciplined, but maybe some part of you is relieved to have a reason not to feel too much.” Her eyes shine in the white light spilling up from the occupied gallery. “Maybe survival is easier for you when it demands leaving people behind.”

Brakk turns his head away and mutters, “That one bit deep.”

She knows it did. I see regret flicker across her face, but she continues because fear has hold of her too tightly.

“You shut down after every emotional breach,” Anita says. “After the kiss. After Rolaev got under your skin. After Sira was taken. You retreat into logic because caring about someone without a mission framework scares the hell out of you.”