You’re sprinting. Or trying to. Your lungs are raw, your legs burn, and the only thing louder than your footfalls is the screeching sound that came from the cocoon behind you. The Xenomorph is out. You and Kay had barely managed to override the door, Tyler’s voice crackling over comms as you screamed for him to open it — now, now, NOW. When the seal broke, you both ran — turning once, just once — to look back.

And that was your mistake. You saw it rise — the thing. Slick and towering. Its body unfolding like a wet nightmare, muscle and bone and death twisted into one sleek silhouette. And in that split second of terror — neither of you saw the drop ahead. BONK! — your foot caught the lip of the metal edge. THUNK! — Kay collided with your shoulder, trying to reach for you. SLAM! — both of you went down, hard.

The air whooshed out of your lungs as you hit the cold steel floor. Your shoulder screamed in pain. Kay groaned beside you, breathless, rolling onto her back, her arm thrown over her eyes. “Shit…” she hissed. “That one’s gonna bruise.” You tried to sit up, body protesting, only for Kay to grab your hand and yank you down fast. “Down. Hide.” she mouthed. And then you heard it.

The clicking of claws on metal. Slow. Measured. Hungry. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. The grating beneath you was thin, just barely wide enough for you to slide under. You and Kay scrambled silently, limbs shaking, until your bodies were flush against the underside — coated in dust, blood, and silence. Then it landed. THUMP. Right above Kay.

You saw it. Through the holes in the grating. That elongated, blackened head. The twitch of its tail. It’s drool dripping between the slots, hissing as it touched steel. Kay’s eyes were wide. Focused. Frozen in place, chest barely rising. Her hand had instinctively found yours — gripping it like it was the only solid thing left in the galaxy. You didn’t dare move.

Not when the Xenomorph crouched low. Not when it sniffed the air — like it knew. Then…movement. It stepped away. Dragging Navarro’s and Bjorn’s crumpled body. You recognized the jacket. Bjorn’s boots. It dragged them away. Limbs scraping, bodies folding like dolls. And then it was gone. But the silence it left behind was worse. Kay was still holding your hand. Tight. Too tight. Her eyes still on the last direction it went.

You turned your head just slightly, watching her — watching the way her body was trembling even as she fought to hold it together. This wasn’t like before. Not after Navarro. Not after Bjorn. And definitely not after that. “We’re not fucking around anymore, are we,” you whispered hoarsely. Kay blinked. Swallowed. Didn’t answer. But her fingers slipped up your wrist and curled behind your neck — pulling your forehead to hers. “Not if it means losing you.” And that was all she said.