Page 37 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz

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She turns, surprised.

“That’s it?”

“You’re the boss,” I say. “Your show. Your call.”

Her shoulders loosen slightly, like she’s relieved I backed off.

But she shouldn’t be.

Because I haven’t.

Not really.

I step close—close enough to smell the citrus note of her shampoo, to see the way her pupils flare slightly at my nearness.

“But if he’s the one driving this bus off a cliff,” I murmur, “you’d better believe I’ll be the bastard grabbing the wheel.”

Her lips part. A protest half-formed. But I’m already walking away.

Because I meant what I said.

If she won’t protect herself, I will.

Even if she never thanks me for it.

Even if she hates me for it.

Because protecting her isn’t about gratitude.

It’s instinct.

It’sneed.

I take the stairs three at a time, my mind already racing through contingencies, contacts, back doors and blacklists.

There’s a line between trust and blindness. She hasn’t seen it yet.

But I have.

And I’m going to burn that bastard off her map before he gets the chance to ruin her.

No matter what it takes.

CHAPTER 8

YARA

Ishould have seen it coming.

Obviously. In hindsight, everything usually seems obvious.

The meeting room smells like stale coffee and stressed suits — florescent lights overhead that hum just loud enough to remind you you’re awake. The kind of light that makes your eye sockets itch if you stare at the board too long. The metallic tang in the air makes my skin crawl; it’s the smell of corporate panic dressed up as urgent concern.

Jonathan Tidball sits at the head of the table, smiling that godforsaken calming smile of his. “Now, now, Yara,” he says, voice warm and soothing, like I’m a child who scraped her knee. “We need to address what happened.”

Across the virtual board screen — holographic panels flickering — the nameGRAUis plastered in bold red letters next to “Security Compromise — Data Breach.”

My pulse thuds like a piston in my throat.

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