Page 137 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz

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Every pulse of steel-and-blood certainty.

In the way I refuse to flinch.

In the wayherefuses to let me face any of it alone.

We’re not just shaping CY8’s future.

We’re shapingours.

And if any shadow thinks we’ll shrink from it…

Let them come.

Because we’ll meet them.

Together.

CHAPTER 26

GRAU

The moment I slip into war mode, the world tilts just a little sharper.

There’s a line in the back of my skull—some buried reptilian nerve that only lights up when chaos smells like opportunity—and it ignites. People talk about combat readiness like it’s a metaphor, like it’s suited ties and adrenaline spikes on demand. They don’t understand. They never do until they’ve felt it in their blood, in the way every pulse becomes a warning bell.

I’m at my console, screens blinking in twilight blues and amber alerts, when the first clear digital breadcrumb drops into the signal queue.

It’s not a bomb code. Not yet. Just chatter from a radio frequency our cyber sweep picked up on the fringe.

I run the threads back thirty-eight hours, thirty-seven minutes, and twelve seconds—timestamps don’t lie—and there it is. The signature matches the data Vex gave me in the Cooling District weeks ago.

Ghostlight.

I lean back, jaw tightening. Vex was right.

Fenn Kreuger.

Years ago, he wasn’t a footnote in my nightmares—he was an operative under my command. Brilliant tactical mind, half-cracked humor, and a vendetta against ghosts he claimed never gave him due credit.

I knew he was active. I knew he was hunting. But now, I have his location.

He’s been sloppy. Or maybe arrogant. He’s making noise like he wants to be found. Like he’s bait.

I let that sit in the back of my thoughts when I hit the comms.

“Yara,” I say into the line, voice low with strategy and static city hum in the background. “SitRep.”

She’s in her office, late night as always—lights still up, coffee cooling, datapads buzzing with projections and redlined demand curves.

“Grau,” she replies, cool and crisp even at 2:13 a.m. “I assumed you’d call.”

That faint smirk in her words tells me she’s already pieced half of what I haven’t said yet.

“Ghostlight’s surfaced,” I say. “And not just a cell—a pack.”

Silence.

Not fear. Not surprise. Just clear, measured comprehension.

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