Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
I have to hope that Commander Rex has some bold plan to rescue himself and all who travel on his ship, because if Wrathelder gets his hands on Emily, I do not know if I can survive seeing her hurt.
“Speaking of your mother, she will be pleased to see you,” he says. “I intend to take all you boys back for a family reunion. She’s missed you, you know. How many digits and limbs you attend that meeting with depends on you. So be a good boy for your new daddy.”
He smirks at my rage.
Emily
Commander Rex turns to those he commands and me. I am not here because I am a person of authority or a trained soldier. I am here because I let an alien fuck me. My presence on this bridge is that of a loose woman. I remain unmarried, improper, and wrong.
“Well, boys,” he says. “What do we do now?”
I am the only one who replies. Fate is sinking its talons into us, and I know that the only way to survive this situation is to face it.
“We cannot surrender. We cannot run. We cannot hide. And it seems we cannot fight. That leaves us one option as far as I am concerned: we lie. We pretend to surrender, and when they take us aboard, we fight like hell. All of us.”
“They may be wise to how dangerous we are now that we have claimed one of their ships.”
“I think they underestimate us, because they are strong and smart and that means they think we are weak and stupid. That alien didn’t seem to think much of us.”
SWOOP!
Suddenly, the question is moot. All questions are. I have been sucked off the rebel human vessel and I find myself on the bridge of the Voros ship — except it is absolutely packed with Wrathelder soldiers.
Their mistake is that they have not just taken me. They have also taken every human that was on the ship. That means a hundred villagers and twenty soldiers stand behind me.
A large, clawed hand reaches out for me and grips me around the neck, swinging me into position in front of a grinning, triumphant conqueror.
“You must be Phenix,” I say.
Phenix Wrathelder looks down at me in the same way a cat looks at a mouse it is intending to brutally torture. He smiles, his tusks and fangs sharp in the ship’s light. He is handsome in the way evil things often are, and I can see the intention to hurt me in those brilliant blue eyes.
“What a pleasure to meet you, Emily,” he says. “I’m sorry to say you will not enjoy your time in my custody, but I am pleased to inform you that you made the right decision. Some of your villagers will live.”
“I promised my grandmother I would always look after those in the village,” I reply. “I won’t allow you to hurt them.”
He laughs at me, emitting a dark cackle of amusement as he looks around at all those present.
“What are you going to do to stop me? Look how small you are. Look how weak you are.”
So much has lain dormant inside me for so very long, power that I never touched, let alone tapped. My family has lived in Hallow Grove for many thousands of years. My ancestors inhabited that specific location for a reason. Modern people don’t understand the reason, and of course neither do aliens. But there is power in a long occupation. And there is strength in defending those my lineage has always defended. My grandmother did not idly charge me with responsibility for my fellow villagers.
I extend my hand, at first with my palm held up vertically, then a twist of my wrist turns the back of my hand to Phenix Wrathelder, my middle finger extended in an ancient gesture of absolute disrespect.
He doesn’t understand the custom, but he certainly understands the intention. The villagers laugh at him, and he knows I am making a mockery of him. He does not like that one little bit.
“Insolent wretch!” He thunders the word, raises his hand, and attempts to strike me across the face. Before he can hit me, even as his hand swings back through the air with more than enough power to break my eye socket if it made full-force contact, a force emanates around me. It is warm and it smells like roast chicken and fresh garden herbs. There is the near silent sound of a needle moving through embroidery, and a quiet tutting from wrinkled old lips.
His hand comes within an inch of me before being repelled with a force that sends him stumbling backward. He looks at me in shock as he loses his big alien footing and opens his mouth to give some stupid order.
There is a collective gasp, and a cheer from those who understand what just happened, and just as many blank stares from those who have no idea what or who I really am. It is about time I introduced myself properly, I think.