Captured by the Alien Warrior Hope Hart (interesting books to read for teens .txt) 📖

has already moved closer to the front lines. He’s roaring as if he’s in a killing rage, unable to remember that he’s meant to defend me.

The Dokhalls are getting closer. By now, they’ll see exactly which way I’ll be running.

So I turn and sprint into the forest as if I’ve lost all self-control. As if I’m so terrified and stupid that I leave the protection of the Braxians behind.

The Dokhalls don’t want to kill me. So if this plan succeeds, I will have taken fifty or more enemies from the front lines, removing them as threats to the Braxians.

And increasing all our chances of surviving.

I’ve run this route a hundred times. The Braxians helped me dig up anything I could trip on before covering up the evidence so it wouldn’t be obvious that I’m leading the Dokhalls down a well-traveled path.

But I didn’t expect them to be so fucking fast.

I’m more out of shape than I’d like. In Houston, I spent some of my precious tip money on a pass for the gym—not to work out, but so I could use the shower each day. I preferred running outside, but when it got too hot, I occasionally hit the treadmill. I hate running, but the thought of Ben chasing me was enough to motivate me to get my four miles in each morning.

This isn’t close to four miles, but it needs to be taken as a sprint. And it can’t look like I’m leading them anywhere. I turn right, grabbing the long white branch of the tree I marked earlier and using it for leverage as I swing around the corner.

I need them to see where I’m going.

That’s not a problem, though, because they’re gaining on me, those horrible sticks in their hands. They clutch them like spears, and I lower my head, pumping my legs faster.

Crashing sounds are coming from the trees to my right. They’ve split up, and they’re trying to cut me off.

Shit.

It’s okay, Charlie. You planned for this. Keep your eye on the ball.

I’m more winded than I usually am at this point in the run, and I think it’s the sheer terror that’s clutching at my throat, making it harder to breathe. But the adrenaline keeps me throwing one foot in front of the other, keeps my arms pumping as I head down the final stretch.

Both groups are getting close. When I mentioned this possibility to the Braxians who set up this trap, they simply tilted their heads, stared into the forest, and told me they’d take care of it.

I really hope they took care of it.

The rope is around the next turn, and I can see it in my mind’s eye, dangling in front of me. I was never good at gym, but I’m going to have to scramble up that rope like a spider monkey, and I’m going to have to do it before the aliens chasing me see me.

If this doesn’t work, I’m worse than dead.

It’s Dragix’s face that flashes in front of my eyes as I round the final corner and lunge for the rope. Dragix’s eyes that urge me on as I take three huge steps and jump for it, my momentum making it swing wildly as I scale it.

I reach for the branch of the tree and haul myself onto it, immediately pulling the rope up after me. My breath is coming in wild sobs, and I slam my hand over my mouth, crouching in my branch as I hear the Dokhalls yelling.

But someone else is calling me, his voice frantic in my head.

“Charlie? Charlie!”

Dragix? Is he…here?

I block him out as the Dokhalls round the corner. Some of them are furious, eyes hard, snarling as they tear down the path. Others seem to be having fun, savage grins on their faces as they yell insults down the trail at where they think I’m still running.

I slam my eyes shut, terrified that they’ll feel my eyes on them, that they’ll look up and see me in this tree.

They don’t.

The stream past my tree, and for a moment, I think the trap hasn’t worked. I’m suddenly sure that they’ll keep running, realize I’m not up ahead, and circle back to find me.

Just when I’m frantically attempting to figure out another plan, the air fills with screams.

I peek through my hands as I turn my head and look down at the trap.

The ground has given way, just like it was supposed to.

Ten feet below, the purple bastards who thought they could steal me off this planet are impaled on sharpened sticks, rocks, and even the occasional knife.

They’re not going anywhere until they can dig themselves out. And a group of Braxians will be arriving soon to finish this job.

I stay put for a long moment, terrified that the group that was trying to cut me off might be on its way.

But they don’t break through the trees, even as their friends scream for help.

I climb through the branches of the tree to the other side and let down another rope. I swing down, attempting to block out the sounds of the dying aliens.

They could have left us in peace. But they came to this planet because they consider us property.

This is war.

Chapter Eighteen

Dragix

I scan the battle below, desperately searching for Charlie. I blow out a stream of fire, aiming at the Dokhalls crowding too close to the Braxians on the right flank.

They turn to ash.

Cheers sound, the Braxians waving their swords in the air. I ignore them, my heart pounding in my chest.

I see both Braxian tribe queens. I see the white-haired two-leg who Charlie called Vivian gleefully throwing small pods at the Dokhalls and smiling when they explode.

But I don’t see Charlie.

“Little two-leg, where are you?”

I call her again and again, flying further from the battle.

“I’m here, Dragix.”

Relief makes me shudder, and my wings tremble as I glance down, finding Charlie beaming up at me as she sprints out of the trees.

I land, snatching her to me and running the