"Not a problem," Xytol said, his tone as smooth as aged whiskey. He reached up with those impossibly long fingers and touched a small device pinned to his shoulder, and the holographic disguise covering him flickered like a candle flame in the wind.
My breath caught in my throat. Where a human man had sat just moments before, there was now a tall, pale green alien with black dreadlocks that cascaded past his shoulders. His features were sharp and otherworldly, all elegant angles that no human face could achieve, and his eyes glowed a luminous lavender that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
Another touch of his cuddwisg, and I blinked. A sailor sat before us, decked out in dress whites so perfect they could have come straight from a recruiting poster. Every detail was flawless, from the ribbons arranged in precise rows on his chest to the exact angle of the cap perched on his head.
"Will this suffice, Admiral?" Xytol asked. Even his voice had transformed, now carrying the clipped, no-nonsense cadence of a military man.
Cullen snorted, and a genuine chuckle escaped his lips. "That's a handy little thing you've got there."
"So, we've got a plan," I said, though my voice sounded steadier than I felt. This was more nerve-wracking than the time I'd authorized a SEAL team to snatch a drug lord from his compound in the dead of night.
"I will contact Hewes—the president—today." The Prime's lips twisted around the title as though it tasted poisonous. I knew exactly how she felt.
"I'll make some calls," Cullen said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. His dark brown eyes found mine, holding my gaze. "I'm still in contact with the Joint Chiefs. It won't be a stretch to let them know I'm informed about the attempt on Ellie's life and insist on being part of the security." His gaze shifted to Adtovar. "I'll need at least eight of you for a believable personal security detail. A dozen would be ideal."
"You will have it," Adtovar promised, his words carrying the weight of an oath.
The Prime's attention shifted to Xytol, her expression hardening. "Xytol, I want you to infiltrate the US defense and intelligence systems."
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. "You can do that?" I blurted before I could stop myself. The Prime's golden eyes narrowed on me, and I immediately raised my hand in surrender, heat creeping up my neck. "Never mind. I don't think I want to know."
Her gaze held mine for a long moment, and in that silent exchange, I understood everything she wasn't saying. The Alliance could hack into every Earth system, every firewall, every encryption, every defense we thought impenetrable. Theknowledge should have terrified me, should have sent every instinct screaming. Instead, somehow, it made me feel safer. Because they were on our side.
"Xytol, as I said," the Prime continued, her voice taking on the unmistakable edge of command, "I want you in US military and intelligence systems. Keep Hewes's AI integration from happening."
"Yes, Lady Prime, immediately," Xytol responded, looking like a kid who'd received the best Christmas present ever.
Under the table, I reached for Rickon's hand, my fingers finding his. His palm was warm against mine, calloused and strong, and when his fingers closed around my own, I felt something settle in my chest—not the absence of fear, but something steadier. Something that made the fear manageable.
I knew what we were walking into. I knew that Declan had already proven he was willing to kill me, that he had resources and technology we were only beginning to understand, that everything could go sideways in a thousand different ways. But sitting there with Rickon's hand wrapped around mine, his thumb tracing small circles against my skin in a gesture so intimate it made my breath catch, I felt something I hadn't felt since this nightmare began.
Hope.
Not the blind, naive kind that ignores reality. But the kind that acknowledges the darkness and chooses to believe in the light anyway. The kind that says even when the odds are impossible, even when the enemy holds all the cards, you fight anyway. Because some things are worth fighting for.
Chapter 16
Rickon
Three days later, I found myself marching in formation behind Cullen, my boots striking the ground in rhythm with the others. Every step felt wrong, like walking against the grain of my very soul. Ellie was arriving momentarily on a shuttle with Xabat and Adtovar, and being apart from her when danger loomed so close made my skin crawl with unease, a constant itch I couldn't scratch.
Adtovar had brought down a full complement of security. Fifteen males in all, including Cristox, Xabat, Ixaka, Bieste, and Kariosak. These were warriors I had fought beside, males whose loyalty and skill I knew without question, who I would trust with my life in any battle. The rest had been handpicked by Xabat himself, each one renowned for their prowess in combat.
Xytol programmed our cuddwisg to disguise us as Navy seamen, and once we passed Cullen's inspection, he called in transport to take us to a nearby military base. From there, we traveled on a rattletrap plane that shuddered and groaned its way across the desert to Area 51. The metal frame vibrated so violently I wondered if it might shake itself apart mid-flight. I would have much preferred to fly myself, to feel the wind beneath my wings rather than trusting the rickety human contraption.
Area 51 seemed different from how I remembered it. The sprawling complex of buildings and hangars looked the same. The same beige structures baking under the merciless sun, the same security fences topped with razor wire. But something in the air felt heavier, more oppressive, like the atmosphere before a lightning storm. Perhaps it was knowing that somewhere within these walls, a traitor waited to strike. Or perhaps it was simply the weight of being separated from my mate, the gnawing anxiety that came from not being able to protect her.
The sun beat down on the tarmac as we disembarked, waves of heat shimmering off the black surface, and I forced myself to maintain the rigid posture of a human military male. Cullen led us toward the main building, his stride confident and purposeful, where the human general we’d met before waited. He was older, with silver threading through his dark hair, and he possessed the bearing of someone accustomed to command, his spine ramrod straight.
"Admiral Blackwood," the male said, his surprise evident in the slight widening of his eyes and the way his voice lifted at the end. "I wasn't informed you'd be joining us today."
"General Abernathy," Cullen extended his arm, and the two males clasped hands in the human gesture of greeting. "I apologize for the short notice. After the recent attempt on the President's life, I couldn't stay away. I was close friends with her husband. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her, especially during a meeting as potentially dangerous as this one."
Abernathy's expression shifted into one of disgust, his lips pressing into a thin line, whether for us aliens or the President, I couldn't tell. "I understand. We've taken every precaution, but I appreciate the extra eyes." His gaze swept over our group, assessing each of us with a practiced eye. "Are these your men?"
"The best I could assemble on short notice," Cullen confirmed.
I studied Abernathy and the half-dozen soldiers flanking him, reaching out with my senses to detect any hint of a cuddwisg. Xytol had taught us all how to detect the subtle distortion it created, like a ripple in still water or the way heat warps the air and the ultrasonic high frequency buzz not discernable by human ears. Nothing. Either these males were exactly what they appeared to be, or the traitors had perfected their disguise beyond my ability to detect.
