Page 208 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

“I should go first.”

“You should absolutely not go first. You weigh as much as a small municipal building.”

“That comparison is becoming common.”

“Then reflect on it later and move.”

The platform behind us crumbles. No more argument remains.

I hook one arm over the cable and wrap the other around Anita’s waist. She protests for half a word, then clings to me as the walkway drops away beneath our feet. We slide along the cable toward the shuttle, suspended over the rupture while the launch cradle tears itself apart around us. Heat blasts upward, followed by freezing wind. My injured shoulder screams under our combined weight. The pulley at the shuttle frame shrieks, sparks flying.

Brakk stands at the ramp, eyes wide. “Kick your legs less! You’re making it worse!”

Anita shouts, “That is not helpful!”

“It is mechanically accurate!”

The cable snaps two meters from the ramp.

We fall.

I twist midair, putting my body beneath Anita’s before we strike the platform. The impact drives a fresh burst of pain through my back and ribs, but the ramp is within reach. Sira and Brakk grab Anita first. I shove her upward toward them as the platform tilts.

“Ghar!” she screams.

I catch the ramp edge with one hand.

My legs swing over open dark. The launch cradle beneath us splits down the center, and the rupture light climbs through the crack. The shuttle’s engines whine as Brakk fights the controls from the ramp access panel.

Anita drops to her stomach and grabs my wrist with both hands. “I have you.”

My grip slips.

“No, you don’t,” I say.

Her eyes go wild. “Don’t you dare.”

I look up at her, at the woman who came back when leaving would have been survival. “Let go of the case if you must.”

“Shut up.”

“Anita—”

“I said shut up!”

Sira grabs Anita around the waist. Brakk locks his small hands around my forearm with a grunt that sounds personally offended. Together, they pull. My wounded body drags over the ramp edge inch by brutal inch until I collapse onto the shuttle floor in a heap of pain, blood, and utter gratitude.

The ramp slams shut.

Brakk launches before I can stand.

The shuttle tears free from the cradle as Nareth-Kul rips open beneath us.

I slide across the deck and hit a cargo brace. Anita lands beside me, one hand still clutching the shard case, the other already searching my injuries. The cabin smells of old fuel, hot metal, stale air, and fear. Emergency lights flash red across her face.

“You are alive,” she says.

“Yes.”