Esten popped her harness and stood. “You fly like you’ve got ghosts.”
Shannon stared straight ahead. “You don’t?”
Esten gave a half smile and walked out.
Behind the observation glass,Krueger watched, elbows resting on the rail. His eyes were fixed, his face unreadable. He didn’t speak or blink. He just stared at her like he was remembering something she hadn’t given him permission to remember.
Shannon climbedout of the sim. When her boots hit concrete, she didn’t look up, but her skin crawled like she’d been marked. And for the first time that day, the sim bay went quiet.
Shannon stood alone on the upper platform, palms braced on the railing, eyes on the dimmed training floor below. She’d stayed after the others left, needing air and space. There was less noise in her head here.
Footsteps sounded behind her, not loud but deliberate. She didn’t turn.
“Didn’t peg you for the brooding type,” Mara Esten said.
Shannon stayed still. “I’m not.”
“You skipped chow. You’re standing in a dark bay after midnight. So either you’re brooding or haunted.”
She didn’t move. “Is there a third option?”
Esten stepped up beside her, arms crossed, gazing out into the same space. “There’s always a third option. But this one feels personal.”
Shannon finally turned, just enough to meet her eyes. “You’re not subtle.”
“I’m not trying to be.” Esten paused. “That guy, Krueger. He’s not just a bad ex. He’s worse.”
Shannon didn’t answer, but she didn’t deny it. That was enough.
“I don’t need details,” Esten said. “But you’re a good wing. You don’t have to handle it solo.”
Shannon’s jaw worked slightly. “I didn’t think he’d ever wear a uniform again.”
Esten nodded. “Someone greased the wheels. That’s clear.”
Shannon’s eyes flicked toward the bay doors. “He’s watching me. I can feel it.”
Esten’s voice lowered. “Then he’s not going to like what happens if he touches you again.”
A long pause. Then, almost too soft to hear: “I’ve got you, Johnson.” No theatrics. Just certainty. The kind Shannon hadn’t realized she missed.
CHASE SECURITY DC
The file landed on Mike’s desk at 0640. Black tab. No cover memo. Internal routing code only. Mike flipped it open.
One page.
KRUEGER, Daniel C.
Army Aviation. Active. Fort Novosel. Clearance: Full.
No disciplinary history on record. No flags. No warnings. No mention of the real reason he'd been disappeared from the Air Force Academy three years earlier.
Mike’s jaw locked. He didn’t need to read it twice. He picked up the desk phone and hit the direct key for Ford Cox’s office.
“Cox,” came low and clipped.
Mike didn’t waste time. “It’s me.”
