Page 116 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

His expression darkens. “Can you disable it?”

“Yes, if people stop trying to murder me for ninety uninterrupted seconds.”

Brakk skids into cover behind the command console, his cutter whining low. “Best I can do is forty and a lot of profanity.”

“Take it.”

The containment field sputters as my scanner begins isolating the collar’s remote trigger. Sira’s breathing turns shallow. Sweat shines along her temple, a fragile detail that startles me because Pi’Rell often seem too composed for ordinary physical distress. She is hurting. She has been hurting this whole time and making serenity out of pain because someone needed to remain calm.

“I’m getting you out,” I say.

Sira’s eyes soften.

The command slab flashes.

A new signal arrives.

The smoke above the platform gathers into a projection of Rolaev .

She stands larger than life in the haze, blue fur braided with metal, scarred throat framed by dark ceremonial armor. Her expression remains composed, though her eyes take in the scene quickly: the disabled soldiers, the smoke, Ghar guarding me, Brakk wiring something explosive and ethically questionable into her console, and Sira kneeling inside the field while I attack the collar interface.

“Anita,” Rolaev says softly. “Your persistence is impressive.”

I do not look away from the scanner. “Your kidnapping décor is tacky.”

Brakk, hunched over the console, mutters, “Solid opening.”

Rolaev ’s gaze moves to Sira. “You should not have forced this.”

Sira manages to lift her chin despite the collar’s glow.

I keep working. “You took her because you knew she could argue better than you.”

“No,” Rolaev says. “I took her because she understands uncertainty without worshiping it.”

That makes my hands falter.

Rolaev sees it.

Of course she does.

“You found our records,” she says.

“I found evidence that your entire movement is built on hoarding the truth while murdering people for getting too close to it.”

“You found evidence that unmanaged disclosure has consequences.”

“I found files with names of dead people attached.”

“Yes,” Rolaev says, her voice grave. “That is what consequence means when stripped of rhetoric.”

Ghar fires again, and another attacker drops somewhere beyond the smoke. “Do not engage her,” he says without turning. “She is stalling you.”

Rolaev ’s gaze shifts to him. “He is correct.”

I bare my teeth at the scanner display. “Wow. Refreshing cult honesty.”

“Precision matters.”