Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 153

Chapter 153 Pick Whichever Ones You Want

Want

Quentin had been staring daggers at Baar, but the second Margaret’s gaze landed on him, he flinched e second Margaret’s gaze landed on him, he flinched slightly.

He dropped his lashes and looked away from Margaret. His long eyelashes cast a faint shadow across his eye sockets.

to smooth the

Tyrone jumped in right away to smooth things over. He sighed and put on a heavy, pained look-like he was reliving some terrible memory he’d rather forget,

“You’ve got a sharp eye, Commander Iverson.” Tyrone lowered his voice. “Truth be told, my brother and I are from the Stillstar Galaxy.”

The room went quiet for a beat at the name.

“That place is nothing but endless war and space pirates running wild. It’s no place to live.” Tyrone kept up the act. “To survive, Quentin and I grew up scrapping in piles of dead bodies, All his skills? It was beaten into him out of necessity.”

He paused, his tone growing softer and more sincere. “Go ahead and laugh if you want, but we’re genuinely sick of fighting. We just wanted somewhere quiet to live out the rest of our lives in peace. Never thought Central Brain would match us to Prime Planet of all places.”

Timothy was half ready to buy the whole dramatic speech.

Margaret thought it was all fake. There wasn’t a single trace of real sadness in Tyrone’s green eyes. He was lying straight through his teeth, and he didn’t even flinch.

“Host! Stillstar Galaxy!” Primo popped back into her head out of nowhere.

Margaret said, “I heard you. No need to yell.”

“No, Host-” Primo pulled up its database in a frantic rush. “The original host’s ID file says it plain as day. She was an orphan from the fringe galaxies of the Stillstar Galaxy And Earth? That planet that vanished ten years ago? Its coordinates are in the Stillstar Galaxy, bo.”

Margaret froze mid-bite of her fruit.

Stillstar Galaxy. The original Margaret. Earth. Starbloom. The black market.

All these random, unconnected pieces suddenly clicked together-tied by an invisible thread.

Even if Tyrone’s whole “tragic childhood” act was made up-and it probably was-there was no way he’d dropped the Stillstar Galaxy name by accident. He had a reason for it.

I have to keep these two around.

The thought made Margaret remember something else. Back when the insectoids attacked out of nowhere, she’d told Primo to look into the original host’s soul-and it still hadn’t reported back. But right now wasn’t the time for a mental chai.

Tyrone was sharp. He knew better than to talk too much and give himself away. He wrapped up his story

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night there not giving Baar any room to keep pressing him.

He turned to Margaret, and that heavy look vanished instantly. His easy, smiling expression was back in place.

“Ms. Greene, we don’t know anyone or anything on Prime Planet. Since Central Brain already confirmed our match, it makes sense for us to stay here, right? Which rooms can we take?” he asked.

ich rooms can w

The second the words left his mouth, the air in the room went completely still. Three heavy, unyielding stares all locked onto Margaret at once.

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Timothy was the first to snap. He shot to his feet. “My Lady, we don’t have any spare rooms. The second floor’s under renovation-none of those rooms are livable right now.”

Baar’s brow twisted into a deep scowl, his golden eyes pinned hard on Margaret. Only Cheiron stayed quiet, watching her calmly.

All three of her resident husbands were suddenly on the exact same page-united in wanting to kick the outsiders out.

Kick them out? If I push these two too far, they won’t go quietly—they aren’t exactly upstanding citizens. On top of that, they hold clues about Earth and the original host.

At worst, they are after me personally-they don’t want me dead, not right now anyway. Keeping them where I can keep an eye on them is better than turning them loose to be ticking time bombs somewhere else.

“There are two spare rooms on the second floor.” Margaret’s tone was steady. “Pick whichever ones you

want.”

Timothy practically squawked in protest. “My Lady!”

“Thanks.” Tyrone ignored the three hostile glares completely. He gave a small bow, grabbed Quentin’s arm, and headed straight for the stairs.

Quentin followed right behind him. He paused for half a second when he passed Margaret, darted a quick glance her way, then hurried up the stairs.

A soft door click echoed down from the second floor.

The tension in the living room didn’t let up one bit.

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