“Some of us aren’t fangs out twenty-four seven.” Mike complained.
I shrugged. “If you can’t keep up, just say so.”
“Seriously, you fly like a senior citizen.” Tatum added. “Hey Casanova, you think we should change Jinx’s call sign to Snail?”
“Sounds good to me.” I doubled down. “Or Grandma.”
“Actually, I amend my earlier statement—you gososlow, I doubt you’d even be able topullthe oh-shit-stick in time.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Mike complained, but I could hear the amusement in his voice. Hewasslow as hell and definitely deserved the rib, but he was always a good sport about it.
“Look alive. We’ve got a cluster incoming.” I warned, that focused calm settling over me as my fingers moved over switches and dials with pure muscle memory. The plane sensors blared, and all I could do was grin. “Boys, I believe it’s time to party.”Cue thematic fight song because I fucking loved this shit.
We split off, falling into a coordinated set of movements, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Sure, every flight started and ended the same way, but everything in-between was pure instinct. I lived for those long minutes when I was slicing through the air at mock speeds. It was a high you couldn’t get from anything else—it’s where I finally found mycalm. Nothing else pacified my nerves, quieted my mind, quite like the drag of my jet through the sky. It was a heady cocktail, adrenaline, focus, muscle memory—something I craved, day and night.
The moment I’d taken my baby up for the first time, I’d found myself. I realized being a pilot defined me as aperson. I loved it, and it didn’t hurt that I was damn good at it too. I didn’t know if I’d personally use the word prodigy, but I’d certainly heard it thrown around when my superiors thought I wasn’t listening.
Honestly, the only thing I cared about was being the best.And I was.I’d always loved going fast, and in the sky, it was even better.It was pure freedom.
“Jinx, you’ve got one incoming on your six.” I murmured into the comms, barrel rolling away from my bogey.
“Yeah, I got it padlocked.” Mike replied.
Alarms blared in the cockpit as I danced through the sky like my life depended on it—because it did.
Focused breaths in-and-out, G-force increasing every second, anchoring into my seat, letting go of everything else, flow, instinct, foresight, and then my crosshairs locked onto my target.
The sensors blared in confirmation a moment later.
“Smasher, you got a couple bandits coming up on your three and six,” Tatum warned his wingman Ezra before he shifted into a set of complex maneuvers, repositioning around his own bogey.
“Headed your way, Smasher.” I dropped in and lured one of the bandits off Ezra and moved the dogfight away.
Maneuvering a series of tight rolls and climbs, I attempted to get the target into my sights, but every single time, just when I thought I had him, he’d slip out of the crosshairs again. “Shit.” I hissed, blood thrumming, frustration pumping through my veins as the target kept up with me, move for move. As rare as it was, I quickly realized my target was just as good as me, which meant it was down to whoever fucked up first. If I didn’t do something fast, the end of this flight was going to look very different from all the rest. “See how you like this.” I muttered, the ground blurring beneath me as I dropped low to cut through the mountainous terrain.
“You’re below the hard deck,” Tatum warned.
“Copy.” I continued my flight path.
“Casanova, get the hell out of there. I can’t get to you downthere.”
“Almost there.” I murmured as the ground came closer with each alarming second—I snapped up in a quick maneuver, and the sensors beeped in confirmation a moment later. Target hit, but Jinx, my wingman, was still in trouble.
I sliced back up through the sky and dropped in, taking out the last bandit that was hot on his tail a mere moment later. Cheers sounded through the comms, and I grinned, heart pounding, high on adrenaline, knowing I was born for this.
As I brought my jet down, that familiar swell of disappointment settled in my chest. This was the worst part of flying—kissing the sky goodbye, at least until my next flight.
I climbed out of my jet and pulled off my helmet, raking a hand through my damp, sweaty hair, realizing my captain was headed my way, and he lookedpissed.
“I should suspend you for pulling that bullshit.” He growled, and I straightened, for whatever reprimand was about to follow. “But unfortunately for me, your impulsive stunts caught the attention of the suits. Long before today, it seems.” There was genuine pity in his eyes as he motioned me towards the hangar.
Oh shit.
A woman wearing a tight bun stared me down from across the table. “I’m curious why someone who could sit on a yacht drinking gin and tonics all day, decided to enlist.”
“Actually, I’m more of an old-fashioned kind of guy.” I countered, but she didnotfind that amusing. So I shrugged, “I wanted to serve my country.”And fly fucking fast.
Her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit.”
