Kann’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, though he clearly didn’t understand what I was really concerned about. “I’ll find you later.”
I left him standing there and headed back the way we’d come, my pace quick but not quite urgent enough to draw attention. If Sasha were planning something, she’d be careful about it. Smart. She wouldn’t do anything obvious or traceable.
Which meant I’d have to be smarter.
For the first time since arriving at the academy, I felt like I was back on a mission. The familiar weight of responsibility settledover my shoulders, along with the razor-sharp focus that had kept me alive through dozens of operations.
Find Sasha. Figure out what she was planning. Stop her from ruining her life.
Simple objectives. Clear parameters.
So why did I have the feeling that this was going to be the most difficult mission of my career?
Chapter
Seven
Sasha
The flight simulator room hummed, banks of sleek pods powered up and ready for potential pilots to test their skills inside. I ran my fingers along the smooth surface of one of the simulation pods, dipping my head inside to marvel at how closely it resembled in cockpit of a fighter.
“This tech is incredible,” I said, genuinely impressed. “Light-years ahead of anything we have on Earth.”
Ariana leaned against another pod and grinned. She looked completely at home here, surrounded by alien technology that would have intimidated most Earth pilots. More than that, she looked happy—fulfilled in a way I’d never seen her before.
“The learning curve was steep,” she admitted, powering up one of the simulator pods. “But the first-years are picking it up faster than expected. Some of them are natural pilots.”
I watched her work, noting that she’d carved out a role that suited her perfectly. Part of me felt a stab of loss that my littlesister had grown up and moved on without me, but something stronger overwhelmed it.
Pride.
In the past, I would have kept that feeling to myself. Our father had raised us to see each other as competition rather than allies, always pushing us to be better than the other, to prove ourselves worthy of his approval. But I was done with that destructive pattern.
“You know,” I said, patting the top of one of the consoles, “I’m really impressed that you’re the first human flight instructor at the Drexian Academy. It’s incredible, Ariana. I’m proud of you.”
She froze mid-motion as she turned to stare at me with wide eyes. “What?”
“I’m proud of you,” I repeated, meaning every word. “What you’ve accomplished here, how you’ve adapted to a completely alien environment and excelled. It’s amazing.”
For a moment, she just stood there looking stunned, like I’d spoken in a language she didn’t recognize. Then her face crumpled slightly, and she launched herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck in a fierce hug that nearly knocked me backward.
“Thank you,” she whispered against my shoulder, her voice thick with emotion. “ Just thank you.”
I held her tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of vanilla. When was the last time we’d hugged like this? When was the last time I’d told her I was proud of her instead of trying to one-up whatever accomplishment she’d achieved?
“I want things to be different.” I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “I want us to be the sisters we never got to be before. Growing up, we were so busy competing that we forgot to actually be family.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, so similar to my own. “Sasha...”
“I survived in that prison because I knew you would find me,” I continued, the words spilling out before I could second-guess them. “I didn’t know how you’d do it, but I knew that if anyone was tough enough and stubborn enough to mount a rescue, it was my little sister.”
She sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thinking you were dead nearly destroyed me. When I finally found out you were alive, there was nothing that would have stopped me from saving you. Nothing.”
The raw emotion in her voice made my throat tight. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for a moment. “I would have felt the same way,” I managed finally. “And I would have done the same thing.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I reached out and tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear, the gesture achingly familiar from our childhood. “You were the one person I mourned the most when I thought I might never escape. I regretted so many things, but mostly I regretted thinking of you as competition instead of my sister.”
