That night,Dante sat on the edge of the hotel bed, fresh out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, water still clinging to his shoulders. His ribs ached where the plate had slammed into him earlier. He reached for his phone. There were no messages.
He stared at the screen, turned it face-down on the nightstand and lay back on the bed.
FORT NOVOSEL
The room was quiet. Carter slept above, and the window screen hummed with insects. Shannon sat on the edge of her bed, posture straight, expression still. She opened the footlocker and took out the scarf. She wrapped it once, then again, around her wrist. She tied it off and faced the mirror. She didn’t blink.
The van pulledup ten minutes late. Two new pilots stepped off like they were reporting to no one, both Army, both already wearing the fatigue of weeks on the move. Warrant Officer First Class Mara Esten looked exactly like the paperwork warned. Shewas sharp, seasoned, with zero tolerance. She scanned the flight line like a battlefield, her jaw set.
The man behind her stepped forward. Shannon’s stomach tightened. It was Daniel Krueger. He hadn’t changed, at least not in the ways that mattered. He still walked like nothing touched him. He still held his bag like it belonged on someone else’s shoulder.
His hair was shorter now, sharper. His nameplate was clean. His eyes flicked toward her and stayed.
The chill that went down her spine wasn’t fear. Three years ago, he’d quietly been removed from the Academy. Officially, for conduct violations. Unofficially? For what he did to her.
Mike shut it down before the arrest ever landed. No hearings, no exposure. Shannon had been nineteen. She didn’t want to talk about it. Her father didn’t make her.
Now here he was. In the Army, back in the pipeline. Which meant his daddy stepped in for him again.
He stopped ten feet from her. “I see it’s Johnson now. Mommy’s name wasn’t good anymore?” He said it like it still belonged to him.
She didn’t move and didn’t answer.
He smiled that same smile. “Sweet Shannon, I didn’t expect to see you here. Thought you might’ve dropped the flight track. Especially after all that turbulence.”
Rhodes blinked at the exchange, suddenly alert beside her.
But Shannon didn’t flinch, just lifted her clipboard and turned away. “Keep walking, Krueger.” Her voice was low and controlled, with no heat and no forgiveness.
Timefor her last go round for the day. The canopy hissed shut. Darkness dropped around her as Shannon locked in. Mara Esten was already strapped tight, flicking switches like she owned the bird. Just this side of reckless.
The sim lit up. It was jagged mountain ridges, dusk horizon, and storm brewing. One evac. One reroute. One hostile hidden among survivors.
“Sim start.”
Esten yanked them off the pad without a word. Banked hard left. She moved too fast.
Shannon corrected silently, torque, drift, and trim. “Too low.”
“I see it.”
“You’ll clip the trees.”
“I said I see it.”
The rotor screamed. They cleared the ridge by inches and slammed down at the pickup zone with a lurch.
“Package onboard. Weather shift incoming,” Shannon called.
Esten grinned. “Perfect timing.”
They punched back into the sky. The wind hit sideways and violently. The sim pitched.
Esten fought it. Shannon matched. There were no words now. Just instinct and survival. Lightning flashed. The cockpit shook, but the bird stayed level—barely. They touched down five seconds early, hard but clean.
The comm snapped, “Sim complete.”
Neither of them moved.
