Page 139 of Aviatrix

Silence settles over the cockpit as we soar over D.C., skimming past the alien ship. It shifts as we pass—subtle and deliberate—almost like it recognizes us. Like it can see us, even though we’re invisible to radar and the naked eye.

“Lark,” I whisper as my gaze stays locked on the massive shape. Its surface morphs from smooth ink to something porous, sandstone-like, and ancient. Hauntingly known in a way I don’t understand.

His cheek brushes my shoulder. “It’s like the ship knows we’re here.”

“I know,” I murmur. “VAL?”

“Ship type unknown.” The words echo through the cramped space. “No match to existing flight logs. Not consistent with manufacturing database.”

My pulse jumps.

Then, VAL banks hard left, climbing higher. The G-force shoves me back into Lark, and I inhale his woodsy cologne.

We made it. We survived.

And Eli, he came back.

Somehow, we made it out alive.

The sky finally feels safe again.

Lark’s hand moves to my shoulder, his thumb gently kneading the tension there. “Relax, Kin. We’re all safe. We’ll figure out the rest once we’re back at camp.”

I glance down. “I can’t believe Frances…” I trail off, unsure how to finish.

He leans closer, his breath warm against my neck. “I know.”

Then, slowly, his arms wrap around me. For the first time since Langdon, I don’t pull away. I let him have this moment. Just one. Because even though we didn’t work, he still saved my life. He chose to protect me when he didn’t have to.

We stay like that—silent, warm, suspended in this sliver of peace—until we reach the rendezvous point.

Gary and Scooter are already circling.

I lean forward, scanning the horizon. “Any word on Phantom?” I ask over the radio.

“He’s a minute behind you,” Scooter replies.

I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding. That’s when I feel Lark’s arms slide away from my waist. They fall to his sides, quiet and resigned.

And it hurts me, almost wrecks me, knowing that Lark is hurting. That he’s deflated and defeated. That he knows I’m here with him, but my heart is a minute behind in a custom black F-35A.

Maybe it’s always been in that jet. With him.

Eli streaks past us just as the radio crackles to life.

“We ready to try Stealth Mode with four crafts?” Gary asks.

“Ready when you are, Lieutenant,” Eli replies.

“Nova?” Gary prompts.

“We’re ready.”

Scooter and Gary fall in to my left. Eli slides in close on my right. They’re all so near I could almost reach out and touch them.

“VAL,” I say, “extend Stealth Mode to all friendly aircraft.”

She complies without question.