Page 48 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
“Yara,” I murmur, not too loud — just firm enough to be a tether — “I don’t fix things by assumption. I analyze. I watch. I prepare. If you let me look at this, we can get ahead of it.”
Her breath catches — not in fear, but in that moment of calculation where she weighs need against danger.
And I know she’s tired of carrying all of it alone.
“I trust your instincts,” she says, almost to herself.
Then she turns her wrist. Opens the notification.
Her fingers flick over commands. Her eyes sharpen — the hint of steel returning.
I watch her work — her focus, the way her jaw sets when she finds something she doesn’t like.
And part of me wants to lean in. To tell her exactly what I found. To tear the world open and show her the bleeding.
To tell her about Kreuger. About the ghosts circling while she worries about spreadsheets.
But she’s right to be cautious. And she has enough enemies right now. I’ll keep the mercenary in my pocket for now.
I stay silent.
I watch.
I let her lead.
That’s what she asked for.
That’s what she gets.
Minutes pass.
Her eyes flit between data points, her brow tightening.
“Here,” she says. “Look at this sequence.”
She turns the comm toward me, the glow reflecting in her eyes.
I see it instantly — a pattern I’d already flagged in my own investigations. Slight delays. Redirected packets. Anomalies timed so precisely they almost look like coincidence.
But they’re not.
I nod once.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “That’s deliberate.”
She blinks at me. Not startled.
Not offended.
Just curious.
Like she didn’t expect confirmation — but she needed it.
“This pattern aligns with the reports I’ve seen,” I continue, leaning in gently. “It’s the same trick.”
She doesn’t ask what trick.
Even in her exhaustion, she knows what it means.
