WarDog: Book Twelve in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series by Alana Khan (types of ebook readers TXT) 📕

charge did its job. I slow my pace so Khour doesn't hear my approach, sneak onto the front porch, and burst through the opening, weapons drawn.

Khour was stooped over and now rises with half a white porcelain statue in his hand. He doesn’t seem especially surprised to see me. Has he set a trap? Why would he be so casual when a huge armed male burst into his house?

“I’m a wealthy male,” he says, barely giving me a glance. “I’ll make it worth your while to spare my life.”

This is so odd, not at all what I expected. Where is his fear? The begging and pleading I’ve imagined every day I’ve walked on two feet since he killed everyone in my village? Is he so used to buying every being he comes in contact with?

“I care nothing for your credits, nor your trinkets,” I scoff and brandish my guns.

“A job?” he asks as he stoops to retrieve something.

“Stand!” I order.

He shrugs, then points to the jagged piece of statue he holds in his hand. It’s the top half of a white porcelain female. “What are tits without a cunt?” he asks, his thoughts as coarse as I imagined they’d be.

“You’re broken.” The thought flew out of my mouth before I knew it.

“Oh, this?” he casually waves at his face. “From an enemy. A little gift to remember him by.”

“Your brain,” I answer. “Your brain is dracked.” Why am I talking to him? Why are we talking at all? Why isn’t he either drawing a weapon if he has one or trying to talk his way out of his imminent death?

“Go ahead then.” He shrugs. “Put me out of my misery.”

He bends to retrieve the bottom half of the statue, and I shoot, aiming for his heart. He’s right. I should end this.

After firing my laser I somehow wind up feeling the searing pain of the shot myself. It throws me back five fiertos and I land painfully on my ass. The scorching agony fries my brain’s circuits for a moment before I can think clearly.

Khour is still sifting through the remains of his artwork in shards on the floor. I shake my head, trying to make sense of what just happened.

I shot Khour and the laser burst arced back at me, hitting me in my chest just below my shoulder. Thank the Gods the power of the shot somehow reduced on the return trip. The ricochet of what would have been a killing shot to Khour only wounded me. There is a burn mark with the smell of singed fur and skin but little blood. I stand, sway a bit, then shake my head to bring myself back to the moment.

Let me help, WarDog offers. I can kill him.

I need to do this.

“Surprise!” he goads, still giving more attention to the rubble on the floor than to me. “My panic room was well equipped. I have to say, I didn’t expect you to come barging through my front door, but I was distracted and forgot to remove my body armor, so I’m well protected.”

My fingers tighten around the handle of both pistols as I parse through the facts. I want to shoot the dracker again, but am pretty sure the next shot will ricochet back at me too. One or two more shots like that and I’ll be lying in a smoldering pile of ash and Khour will still be standing amid the debris.

“Weapons won’t work against me,” he says with a shrug. “Very fancy body armor made by artisans on Abachae. Designed so lasers bounce back to their point of origin. I’m a big male and would be happy to go hand-to-hand with you. I practice daily with the best trainer money can buy. I’ll win.”

His taunts make me more determined to make him suffer. I consider hitting him with a headshot because I’m fairly certain no protective armor protects his head. I immediately discard the thought of a swift death for the monster standing smug and confident in front of me.

I toss my weapons to the ground. What was it one of the females said when we were planning this in the ludus? ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold’? She was right. Killing him up close will be much more satisfying than at the unfeeling barrel of a gun.

Now, WarDog growls, his lips are pulled back in a display of savagery, his deadly incisors dripping in anticipation. Let me at him. 

The depth of his hatred seeps through to me, magnifying my own.

I only feel a small percentage of the desire he feels to attack. It’s powerful.

Keep the element of surprise for a moment longer, I urge, wanting to prolong the joy of finally achieving my long-awaited revenge.

I rush Khour with a yell. Bridging the distance between us in a few steps and a leap, I’m relieved to realize that whatever his body armor is capable of, it doesn’t repel me. I should have been smart enough to anticipate the stab of the sharp shard of the statue, though. It was still in his grip. He’s used it to punch into my stomach, piercing a gouge into me at least three inces deep.

I scream in agony and take a step back, indicating I’m in even more pain than I am. I’m less than two fiertos from him, able to see every emotion that crosses his evil face. He planned this. He wanted me to think he was distraught and defenseless, he drew me in all the while keeping the deadly, jagged piece of statuary that he could use as a weapon. He’s a smart male. I curse myself that I fell for his ploy.

Look at his smug face. He’s not even breathing hard and I’m spilling blood all over his formerly fine carpet. If I was a regular humanoid