He’d nodded once—sharp, contained—and turned back toward the plane.Preflight already in motion.Fueling processes underway.Distance reestablished in seconds.
The others had added their voices.
“Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You saved his life.”
“Appreciate the assist.”
Ethan hadn’t responded.
Not a word.
Niko had stood there, anger flaring hot and immediate, regret following close behind.The two emotions tangled so tightly he hadn’t known which one to act on.Anger was easier.Anger always was.He’d wanted to say something—anything—to cut through the silence he’d created in the cockpit.Instead, pride and pain had tangled together, and he’d done what he always did when cornered.
He’d gotten into the truck.
They’d pulled away a short while later, tires crunching softly against gravel.Niko had twisted in his seat just in time to see the jet begin its roll, engines spooling up with restrained power.
The aircraft banked gracefully against the sky.
Gone.
No one had spoken on the drive back.The truck had filled with engine noise and road hum, and the unspoken agreement that this was Niko’s silence to have.Black Tide understood when not to interfere.
They’d let him sit with it.
Now, lying in the van with the day fully awake around him, Niko cursed himself for the words he’d chosen.For the timing.For the way he’d reached for a barb when what he’d really wanted was the truth.
He pushed himself upright with a low grunt and swung his legs over the side, pausing as the ache flared again.He ignored it.Pain was familiar.Regret was worse.
Ethan hadn’t always been like this.
That thought hurt more than the wound.
The memory came unbidden.
Flight school.
The smell of jet fuel and coffee.Long days that bled into nights, theory giving way to practice, practice turning into instinct.Ethan had stood out immediately—not loud, not cocky, just devastatingly competent.The kind of pilot instructors watched a second longer than necessary.
They’d burned hot and fast.Moving from friends to lovers in days, emotions built in hours, carried by proximity and trust, and the intoxicating certainty that some connections didn’t need caution.
Late nights in hangars.Shared flights.Shared jokes.Shared silences that felt like belonging.Ethan had trusted him in the air before he’d trusted him on the ground, and Niko had taken that as something sacred.
Then one morning, Ethan hadn’t shown up.
No call.No message.
Just a news article pushed into his feed by some algorithm that didn’t know it was delivering a knife.
Business mogul announces son’s wedding to prominent heiress.
Accompanied by an image of a man and a woman smiling for the camera.And not just any man.His man.
Niko had stared at the screen until the words blurred.
He’d reached out.
