Alien Warrior's Secret Baby: A SciFi Romance by Athena Storm

Author:Athena Storm [Storm, Athena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Athenaverse Press
Published: 2023-07-17T23:00:00+00:00

19

ZORAK

I don’t remember having all of these wrinkles the last time I looked in the mirror in this hotel basement. Some of the lights don’t even work now, and no doubt the manager of the hotel doesn’t work here anymore. I knew he would always get fired for that attitude of his.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a mission on this side of the city. Malock said this one had to be done quickly. I can’t imagine why he wanted to rush it so badly, but maybe it’s a koltec issue. The quicker we kill the target, the more we get paid. It’s a rare circumstance in my line of work, but it does happen.

I pause at the couch in the living room where I once I agonized over how I would possibly make it fourteen hours without Gemma by my side. After all this time, I guess I finally found the answer. It was hidden in the one thing I was going to leave behind before her accident – killing.

The rush from the killings is the only time I’m alive, but it will never provide an iota of the rush I had when our lips touched. My eyes shift to the clock. Two in the morning. I should be sleeping to be up for the mission in the morning, but my stomach is growling.

My head slowly turns to the door, and I sigh, knowing what I want to do is a terrible idea. I wonder if Ardena’s is still there after this long. I’ve thought of it often through the years but never had the fortitude to check.

But now, I do. If nothing else, maybe it’ll give me some strange shot of adrenaline to see the place I met her. If I could do it all over again, I would, and I’ve thought that so many times. Being back in this part of the city makes the question hit harder.

Leaving the safehouse, I walk down the dark alleyways until coming up to the back of the diner. One of the streetlamps flickers above me, a dull metaphor for how clear her memories are to me now. I still haven’t forgotten her, but her face has become more difficult to picture clearly in my mind over the years. She’s my Jalshagar, so if I wanted to, I could force it to be clear. It’s etched in my mind. But I don’t. It’s too painful.

Walking around to the front of the diner, a scratch on the wall catches my eye. I wipe my hand over it, smearing some dust off the side while squinting at what had been scratched out.

Looks like the vandalism in this city hasn’t changed, I think, while walking to the front door. Crime has always been up in this part of town, but I didn’t think scratching things into walls was a part of it. The diner probably doesn’t have the money to get it professionally covered up, either. I guess scratching out some vague profanity works just as well, though.

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