Page 50 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

I do not speak. There is nothing useful to say. I put the case into her hands because refusing it now would dishonor what Teren spent his last seconds trying to save. She clutches it against her chest with both arms, her mouth trembling as though she might shatter if she opens it.

Brakk’s voice cracks when he speaks. “We have to go.”

Sira touches Anita’s shoulder gently. “He chose to help.”

Anita’s eyes shine with tears and fury. “I know.”

The attackers press closer from the western breach. One of them steps onto a broken slab above us, black armor marked with a white sigil resembling a split throat inside a circle. He lifts one hand, and his amplified voice thunders through the smoke.

“Relinquish the contaminated archive. Submit for purification. The Choir grants silence to those who obey.”

Anita’s fingers tighten around the case.

I step in front of her.

The attacker’s visor turns toward me. “Vakutan, you protect corruption.”

“I protect people.”

“Then you protect collapse.”

He raises his rifle.

I kill him before his finger finishes tightening.

The firefight becomes a brutal retreat after that. I do not remember every strike as separate action. Combat at close range becomes rhythm, geometry, and necessity. I put down attackers who move toward Anita. I break through a fireteam trying to cut off Sira and Brakk. I use my body as cover when civilians stumble across exposed ground. I kill with rifle, knife, claws, and the savage efficiency the Alliance paid dearly to teach me.

Anita sees too much of it.

I know because every time I turn, her face holds another fracture.

Yet she keeps following.

She does not drop the archive case. She does not freeze. She does not forgive me for the violence, but she understands why it stands between her and the grave. That understanding is its own horror.

We reach the lower escape route as the surface tunnels begin sealing under emergency lockdown. Pell’s voice crackles through my comm, broken and desperate. “I’m closing what I can. They’re inside command. Merrow is down. I don’t know if he’s dead. Ghar, you need to get below now.”

“How many survivors?” I ask.

“Unknown. Maybe twelve. Maybe fewer.”

The answer lands hard, but there is no time to mourn numbers.

Behind us, a Choir charge detonates against the tunnel mouth. The blast throws everyone forward. Rock and support plating shear loose overhead. Brakk dives into the manual controls, but the mechanism sparks dead under his hands.

“Move!” I shout.

We sprint deeper into the lower passage as the entrance collapses behind us in a thunder of stone and twisted metal. The shockwave slams through the corridor, knocking Anita against me. I wrap one arm around her and keep her upright as the world behind us disappears under rubble.

When the sound finally dies, there is only dust, darkness, and the distant echo of attackers trapped on the other side of the collapse.

Anita breathes hard against my chest, still clutching the archive case. Sira stands nearby against the wall, her silver-white face streaked with soot. Brakk coughs violently and mutters a curse so vile even the tunnel seems offended.

Above us, the dig site burns.

Behind us, the Choir waits.

Ahead of us, the lower ruins descend into blackness.