Kelan kept his eyes trained on Michelle. As she cleared away the dirty dishes and shut down the computers, the energy she had shown during the meeting slowly drained out of her body. He could actually see her spirits sink and her movements slow. He sensed a desperation coming from inside her. He was afraid that asking her to sit down and explain what was causing the change in her personality would be crossing over into territory that was too personal. He had already inquired about her injuries, and she had lied. She would certainly do it again if he pushed her too far. For the moment, he would ignore the warning bells going off in his brain and let her keep her secrets.

The moment Michelle's car left the parking garage, Kelan received a signal on what appeared to be his wristwatch. It was much more than that. Yes, it told the time. However, it did far more. It was the way he communicated with Talonia. Apparently, his species was eager for news. Usually, they waited for him to open communication since they had no idea who might be present in his office or home at any given time. For them to open the line, it must be extremely important. Not one to take chances, Kelan sent a signal telling whoever was calling to give him time to reach his private quarters: the penthouse over Rankin World Defense headquarters.

Kelan sealed his office and set the alarms. He hurried to the private elevator that was concealed behind a bookshelf in his office. It deposited him directly into his main living area. Once inside, he quickly ripped off the offensive suit and tie. With each layer he discarded, more of his muscular body appeared. Broad shoulders, ripped abs, and powerful thighs were released from their prison. The longer he had to wear the formal clothing, the more he felt strangled by it. Down to just his boxer briefs, he breathed a sigh of relief, poured himself a whiskey, and returned the call. No signal could breach the walls of his home. He had made that a priority when the penthouse was added to the building. Secrets were meant to be kept, and spies were everywhere in the weapons business.

The communication came from the military commander of Talonia. He was agitated by being left to wait for Kelan's return call. He shouted, "When I open communication, I don't expect to be ignored! Have you become soft living on that planet or do you now think you're too powerful to obey orders?"

Kelan reminded him, "I can't answer immediately. There are too many risks involved. I know you wouldn't want the humans to discover who I am or that our planet exists. I wasn't ignoring you. I was just putting our safety first. My loyalty, of course, is with Talonia."

Kelan's calm and reasonable attitude defused the situation. It seemed their species was quick to anger: a problem that needed a solution. The commander gruffly replied, "Fine, I have no desire to put us on the humans’ radar. We have trouble brewing, and we don't need to add Earth to the mix. The aliens sent a ship to hover in the clouds and watch us. They didn't even try to hide. They were taunting us in hopes we would attack and start the war. It became clear that they are aware of our tightly wound anger issues and thought we could be baited. A few fights broke out among us trying to keep the rebellious ones in check. Tell me you have good news. Someday, we won't be able to control the younger, more volatile of our species."

Kelan answered, "I have progress to report, although I might be better off seeking a solution to our anger. It is that anger that brought us to the attention of the alien nation. If not for uncontrollable rage, we would have continued to appear as men to their eyes and a treaty could have been negotiated. Instead, we changed into our truest form, and they want us abolished."

"I don't require your speeches! I'm fully aware of what transpired. I was there at the time. We can't backtrack. We must move forward. What's your news?” the commander asked.

"I've acquired the information on Earth's solution to the nuclear fallout. It can be replicated with the addition of some of their technology, which I will be sending within a week or two," Kelan began. "The weapon we were seeking is under construction in my lab. I met with investors today and received the money necessary for further testing and mass production. The material the weapon is made from is a component sourced off a crash site. The ship was alien, but we've managed to duplicate the material using metals abundant on Talonia. My work here will be finished sooner than I expected: a year at most."

The commander demanded, "If you have the information, why must you stay? You are needed here. If your loyalty lies with us as you claim, then you should leave Earth and its distractions."

"My loyalty is with my species, but I still have a responsibility to the humans. Without their hospitality and money, we would not have the information. I owe it to them to see this project to its conclusion. Besides, if I disappear now, they will think I have absconded with their contributions. I refuse to have the reputation of a thief on any planet. The company I have built will continue under my name and be run by a trusted committee. It is an important contributor to this world, and I take pride in my accomplishments. I sacrificed so much to come here at my leader's request. As the only one of our species on Earth, unable to confide in anyone what I really am, I have suffered loneliness and been deprived of changing on a daily basis. The freedom to fly through the skies was yanked from my grasp. Talonia owes me this time to complete my work."

"The longer you stay there, the bigger chance there is of humans discovering what you are. As you said, your true nature has been held back for too long. You're a time bomb just waiting for someone to push the countdown button. We'll give you some time, but you need to speed things up. A year is too long. Three months is the limit; no arguments accepted," the commander declared. He shut down the communication before Kelan could reply.

Well, that didn't go as planned. Kelan paced the floor in frustration. He had so much riding on his shoulders. They were strong ones, but even he had a limit. Two planets depended on his work, and then there was Michelle. He couldn't get her off his mind or shake the bad feeling coming from his gut. She was in trouble, he knew it in his bones. What could he do? Should it be his worry or was it best to leave her to solve her own problems? In the scheme of things, how important was it? It kept him from sleeping, so it was obviously extremely important to him. He didn't understand why. It had to be more than his opposition to domestic violence.

Michelle heard the blasting television when she exited the car. All the lights in her house were on as well. This didn't bode well for her. It meant that Jackson was awake and most likely ready to rumble. She hesitated in the driveway. Maybe she should get back in the car and make a run for it. Her neighbor came hurrying across the lawn. He demanded, "Shut that noise down, or I'm calling the police! I've had enough of it. Your boyfriend's had it that loud for hours. I've pounded on the door several times. He won't answer. The only reason I haven't called it in yet is because you're a good neighbor. I suggest you get rid of that jerk: the sooner, the better."

Michelle was embarrassed. She didn't like causing a scene or involving her neighbors in her problems. Drawing attention to herself was the last thing she needed. "I'm so sorry for the noise. I'll go in and fix it immediately. Thanks so much for not calling the police. He's upset because he lost his job. It won't happen again." Having left herself without a choice, she proceeded to the door. Her arms were full of two pizza boxes and a six pack of beer. She was sure that he was drunk already, but if he drank more, he might pass out and leave her alone.

Jackson must have heard the key in the door despite the loud television. Or maybe he was watching for her. Either way, he jerked her by the arm as soon as she opened the door. Two of the beer bottles fell and busted on the tile floor. The smell permeated the air around them, and glass shards stung her skin. Jackson didn't seem to notice. He flung her onto the couch and slapped her bruised face while screaming, "Where the hell have you been? You should have been home hours ago. I haven't eaten all day! Who were you screwing? Answer me!"

With her jaw swelling and throbbing, Michelle could barely speak. She quietly replied, "I was working. There was an important meeting with investors I had to attend. I knew you would be hungry, so I brought pizza." Her defiant side reared its head momentarily, and she added, "There was plenty of food in the kitchen you could have eaten. You know how to make it. Starving was your choice."

Her defiance earned her another slap, this time to the other side of her face. She saw stars, and her ears rang, wiping out the sound of the television. Oddly enough, that was the first thing that crossed her mind. She needed to silence the television, or the neighbor would call the police. Why in the world would she do that? If her neighbor called them, Jackson would be arrested for assault. Wouldn't that be perfect?

Jackson didn't care for what he saw in Michelle's eyes. Behind the bruises and swelling, he could tell she had a plan. His brain ran through a series of options and settled on the obvious. The neighbor had banged on the door all day, shouting about the noise. That had to be Michelle's plan. Let the neighbor call the police about the noise, and she would be saved. He refused to let that happen. As he saw it, she had to pay for her crimes against him. It was her fault he had lost his job, drank too much, and hit her: right? He couldn't be blamed for what the universe did to him. Michelle was bad luck.

Jackson grabbed her purse and keys. Escaping wasn't an option. He picked up the remote and silenced the television, ending her hope of rescue. Michelle tried to rise and head for the door, but Jackson wrapped her in a bear hug from behind. Air whooshed from her lungs as he squeezed her tighter. He whispered in her ear, "You're not going anywhere, tonight or ever. You're the reason my life sucks, and you're going to pay for it one way or another." He dropped her into a kitchen chair, pulled an electrical cord from the wall, wrapped it around her numbed arms and the chair, and left her helpless to fight back. He picked up the pizzas and unbroken bottles of beer, then plopped it all on the table. Disappearing once more, he returned with a sharp piece of the broken glass bottle.

Michelle opened her mouth to scream, but Jackson's hands wrapped around her throat and cut it off. "Try that again, and I'll use the broken glass to slit your throat. Don't test me." He sat down and began to eat the pizza. "I have a few questions for you, and I expect the right answers. First, where were you?"

Michelle replied, "I told you the truth. I was working."

Jackson's eyes narrowed, and he said, "Strike one. You were probably screwing your rich boss." He picked up the glass shard and swiped it across her thigh. Her clothing kept the cut shallow, yet the sting was painful. "Second question, where's all the money? You make a lot, but there's only a few hundred dollars in the bank account."

"It paid for the rent, electricity, telephone, and food. Not to mention, the beer and drugs you waste it on. We can't count on your income, " she answered.

"Strike two," he countered. "One more and you’re out." He swiped the shard across her other leg. "I want the money. There's a deal I want to get in on. It could set me up for life. Where's the money?"

"I answered that already. Besides, if I had any, I wouldn't give it to you. I would imagine the deal has something to do with drugs and I won't be a part of it. Why don't you just go and live with your buddies? You don't like it here, so leave," Michelle declared.

"I warned you, Chelle. That's strike three." He raised a fist and swung it at her head saying, "You're out." Her head slumped onto her chest as she lost consciousness.

The spray of hot water against bare skin brought her back. Somehow, Jackson had stripped off her clothes and wrangled her limp body into the shower, where she now lay on the floor. He stood over her with a bottle of pills. She recognized them as the sleeping pills her doctor had ordered to combat her insomnia. Jackson shook some into his hand while Michelle struggled to rise. She was too weak to fight. He pried open her mouth and shoved in the pills. Then he held her nose until she was forced to swallow. "Good job," he said. "We're going to wash away some evidence and reduce the swelling. Then, it's nighty-night for both of us. The pills will make you oblivious so I can get some sleep. Tomorrow, you'll give me some straight answers."

Jackson scrubbed every square inch of her, hair included. It hurt so bad, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of screaming. He wouldn't let her comb out her tangled hair. He tossed her into the bed and waited for her to pass out. Michelle fought the sleeping pills for as long as she could, hoping to outlast Jackson. It wasn't to be. The pills won out. She fell asleep and dreamed of escape. There wouldn't be any slow process of sneaking out her belongings. She would leave it all behind and run for her life at the first chance she got. The money in her hidden accounts could buy her a new life and hide her from Jackson. She might even have the courage to stop at the police station and let them see the damage. The only regret she would carry with her was leaving her job. Somehow, she would get word to Kelan and explain. He would understand.