Chapter 77 Noelle
NOELLE
“You sure you’re okay? You don’t want me to walk you to your door?” the Beast Kindred pilot asked, glancing over at her from the controls as he powered down the shuttle.
“No thanks, it’s okay. I can manage.” Noelle forced a tight smile and unbuckled her harness.
The big warrior looked doubtful.
“Just say the word if you’re in trouble. You don’t seem too happy to be going home for Christmas.”
“Thanks, but it’s just a family thing,” she said, trying to smile. “It’s better if I go alone.”
She thanked him again and stepped off the Kindred shuttle, her boots hitting the cracked sidewalk at the far end of the street with a soft crunch.
Cold air nipped at her cheeks. The sky above was the color of damp slate, fading from dusk to night, the streetlamps casting puddles of yellow light along the curb.
She adjusted her coat and began walking.
The neighborhood hadn’t changed. Her grandmother still lived in the same squat little bungalow at the end of the cul-de-sac, its faded yellow paint dim under the blinking strings of multi-colored Christmas lights.
Plastic candy canes lined the path and a worn Nativity scene sagged in a neighbor’s yard, baby Jesus glowing faintly blue under a snow globe dome.
The world looked peaceful…but Noelle knew better.
She had spotted the unmarked black SUV from the sky—a matte monstrosity parked directly in front of her Abuela’s home. There was no license plate and the windows were tinted dark, doubtless to keep anyone from knowing who it was.
Her stomach clenched as she walked. The air smelled of woodsmoke—someone had lit a fire. Not surprising—it got cold in North Carolina this time of year.
She spotted him the moment she turned onto the sidewalk leading to her childhood home—Branson.
Her ex stood casually in the shadows, dressed in full tactical camo, the kind that looked more like a costume than an actual uniform. Gear straps…holsters…comms unit hooked to his shoulder. She could see his smirk before she got close enough to hear him.
He always did love a performance.
Power. Control. Hurt someone and walk away smiling. This job must be perfect for him. He’d been a cop before, but now he had even more power—he must love it.
“Well, well, there you are!” Branson exclaimed, stepping into the glow of a porch light. “What do you know? I thought you might want to see me again.”
Dios, I’ve never hated him more.
But Noelle smiled anyway—lips tight, eyes calm. She knew better than to provoke him.
“Branson, can’t we settle this like adults?” she asked, trying to sound reasonable, even as her pulse thundered in her ears. “There’s no need for all of this. Is there?”
“I don’t think so, babe. The only way we’re settling this is you coming home with me.”
He grabbed her arm—hard—and yanked her forward.
Noelle’s breath caught in her throat as his fingers bit into her skin.
“You shit all over my perfect life,” he growled, pulling her in close, his mouth just inches from hers. His breath reeked of stale coffee and cigarettes. “I had the perfect marriage and you fucked it all up! You ran away to fuck a bunch of asshole aliens! And now you’re gonna pay.”
“No—Branson, please—”
He seized the back of her head in one brutal grip, yanking her hair until her scalp burned, forcing her to look at her grandmother’s house.
“There she is,” he hissed in her ear. “Nice and cozy. But not for long.”
“Branson, please!” she gasped, tears springing to her eyes as his fingers tightened.
“Oh, there’s gonna be a world of hurt, you little cunt—” his voice turned sharp and gleeful “—for you and your grandmother both!”
Then, he shouted over his shoulder, “All right, boys! Get her!”
Noelle’s blood turned to ice.
Four men emerged from the shadows like ghosts—dressed head to toe in dark green camo, gaiter masks pulled high over their mouths and noses.
All of them were armed…all of them moved with purpose.
They jogged silently up the front steps of her grandmother’s house and began pounding on the front door with brutal fists.
“NO!” Noelle screamed desperately. “Please, she’s eighty-five! She’s weak—don’t hurt her! She’s innocent!”
But Branson just twisted her hair tighter, wrenching her neck back until she whimpered in pain.
“Break it down!” he bellowed. “Break down the door and drag her out! Come on—step to it!”
Glass shattered. A wooden panel cracked, splintering with a gunstock blow. Noelle could hear her abuelita’s frightened voice crying out from somewhere inside—
“?Quién está ahí? ?No! ?Por favor, no!”
And then…a deafening BOOM rocked the street.
All motion stopped, the agents freezing in place.
The earth shook beneath their feet and Noelle almost lost her balance. A high-pitched shriek filled the air as wind screamed down from above, scattering leaves and sending dust and grit flying.
A massive ship—twice the size of a standard Kindred shuttle—appeared overhead, glowing purple and gold, its hull glimmering like an insect’s carapace in the Christmas lights.
It hovered for one perfect, breathless second…and then it landed—directly on top of the black SUV with a sound like metal tearing and the sky collapsing.
CRUNCH. The black vehicle flattened like a soda can under a boot. The SUV was obliterated in an instant, crushed beneath the ship’s massive bulk.
The agents froze. Even Branson dropped his grip, stumbling backward, his eyes wide with shock.
Noelle didn’t move. Her eyes were locked on the ship and she already knew who was inside.
They came for me, she thought. Thank the Blessed Virgin—they came!