Epilogue

Ryan

I ’m sprinting across the marshy plains, out of sight from the mountain and the glowhollows hidden below. My boots pinch my toes and a blister is already forming on my heel, but I press forward. I’m moving as fast as I can.

Draxel is big. He’s fast.

But I won’t let him catch me.

It took me a week of sneaking around to steal a large enough leather that I could fashion into a pack to take with me. Every day in the kitchens, as I sat with Nicole and Lara and listened to them ramble on about the Vruts, the glowing fucking rocks in the wall, and how happy Paige was, I pretended to care.

Really, I was planning. Biding my time until they weren’t looking and then stuffing extra food into my suit.

A week of laying low and pretending like I was content to sleep on the floor in furs that smelled musty and faintly metallic—like there was still a bit of blood from whatever animal the Vruts had killed to make it mixed within the soft fibers. What? I was supposed to just integrate into this new life with literal aliens because that’s what my friends wanted to do?

Because that was my only option?

Bullshit.

Before getting on that damn ship, I was a viral internet sensation. Why? Because people loved watching my videos for the sense of adventure. I didn’t follow the well-worn path through the Appalachian mountains like everyone suggested. I hated taking the easy way out or following a trail just because everyone else was. No, people watched because I followed my own spirit.

Well guess what? My spirit didn’t have me converting into some barefoot and pregnant mate for an alien brute just because half his chest lit up like a damn Christmas tree.

The leather pack on my bag shakes as I sprint, holding the strap across my chest firm to try and keep it from falling apart. I didn’t have a needle and thread, so I had to do my best tying everything together. I packed enough food and a flash of water that I think should last me for a week.

But that isn’t the only part of my plan.

My boots splash in a shallow puddle of smelly, stagnant water as I make my way across the plains. In this area, I’m too exposed. None of those massive trees protect me from view and though I can’t find the source of the heat, my cheeks feel like they are burning in the sun. The sky is still that boring shade of gray that it was the first day when we landed here and I watched Varek kidnap Paige.

Gray.

Gray like Draxel’s ugly skin.

I keep running until the ship comes into view. It’s almost completely overtaken by thorny vines, the shining metal walls of it almost invisible beneath the knotting and twisting plant. If I didn’t know it was there, I might have missed it.

I kick at the vines that crisscross the opening of the ship and bang on the wall before stepping inside. I was half expecting one of those ugly as shit Thachiens to come limping out, but luckily the place was empty.

As fast as humanly possible, because there’s a chance the Vruts might have already discovered I’m gone, I make my way through the ship. All our technology is off, the backup generators must have lost power from the invasive vines growing and cracking straight through. But that’s okay.

When we were stuck in here for a week, I made sure to take inventory of everything that could possibly be useful in this ship. What did I find?

Not much.

Not enough in the way of food or water to last for more than a couple of days. But I did find a knife—large enough to do some hunting with. I found signal flares and a bunch of rope stuffed in a bin beneath one of the pods.

And a flashlight.

I reach for one of the extra suits tucked beneath a pod and slide it on. It’s new and pristine, the bright blue material stretching around me with no rips or tears.

Plus, it doesn’t smell like ass.

I make quick work of grabbing each item, stuffing the rope, flashlight, and flares into my pack. The knife, I keep in its mahogany leather sheath and slip it inside the front of my suit in case I need it. Another quick look around and then I’m on the move again, running as hard as I can toward the line of trees to my right.

I cross under the canopy of massive trees and the temperature drops significantly. A chill creeps down my spine as I press on, maneuvering around the thick trunks and low hanging branches. The jungle isn’t unlike the ones I’d hiked in back home, except the air tastes thicker with all the humidity. My skin is damp from the rain that never stops falling from the sky.

My suit clings to my body like a second skin and I’m drenched in sweat.

But I won’t stop until I have to. Until I’m so exhausted that I can’t physically move another inch.

Why?

Because I refuse to spend another minute with people who expect me to become an alien breeding slave. That’s what I’ll be. I don’t care how happy Paige looks, I don’t want it. I never wanted a man or children for that matter, and all the Vruts have done is cause us grief and pain.

I thought Paige was dead for God’s sake. And now? Cristina is actually dead.

They are monsters. They pretend not to be—they pretend to be kind and gentle and understanding—but deep down, all they see in us are vessels to bear their weird-looking gray-skinned heirs.

And I’m not having it.

And I won’t let Draxel find me.

I hate him.

I hate the way he stares at me. The way he hovers around me.

My stomach flutters as I imagine him but I force myself to run harder. I fucking hate the way my body reacts when he comes into my mind. I hate the way he makes the hair on my arms stand on end, or the way I want to watch that strange pulsating light on his chest.

I hate him.

And I will never, never give myself over to him.

I’ll die before I become his.