Page 159 of Aviatrix

“I found her.”

Her eyes widen. “Where?”

“Does it matter where?” I groan. “What did Dad say? About the things coming to find VAL?”

She swallows. “He said it was only a matter of time before… before they showed up to claim what was rightfully theirs.”

So, that’s it. It’s not a theory anymore.

It’s real. VAL isn’t just advanced tech. She’s built on alien technology.

We suspected it. But hearing it confirmed right here, in this locked room, with the world crumbling outside, does a number on my nerves.

“What are we going to do?” I mumble, the words spilling out as my mind races. “What are we going to do?”

“Can’t you just give them the jet?” Mom suggests.

I exhale, sharp and bitter. “I could. But I don’t think that’s what they’re really after.”

“What do they want?”

“They want something called the Legion.” I pause. “Did you ever hear Dad mention that? The Legion?”

Mom shakes her head. “No. Never.”

“You’re sure?” I press. “Really think, Mom.”

Her eyes flash. “Don’t patronize me,” she snaps. “I remember everything your father ever said. Every story. Every warning. There’s not a single thing I’ve forgotten. I would remember something like that.”

I swallow the lump rising in my throat.

Eli hangs up the phone, the sharp click making me jump. “The General’s on his way.”

“With the aliens here?” I ask, stunned.

“We’re running out of time, Quay.” His voice is strained. “Every second Rourke’s out there, making moves. A hundred and sixty-three people died yesterday in that cemetery. How many more are going to die in a war we’re not even controlling?”

“I… I don’t know.”

He steps in closer, the heat of his frustration prickling against my skin. “Then end it. Today. Right now. We have to give them the address to the warehouse.”

“We have to,” I whisper. “We do.”

“That means you go up there,” Eli says. “You talk to them. Give them what they want. They knew your name. They found you. Even in Oklahoma.”

“They contacted you?” Mom gasps. “When?”

Eli ignores her, his fingers gently trailing up my neck, tangling in my hair. “You’re the only one who can stop this. We can stay here, hide, pretend this will pass, but that’s never been you, Quay. You don’t run. You never have.”

I lick my lips, nerves twisting in my gut. Lark has always tried to protect me. To cage me for my own good. But Eli? Eli’s always been the one to push me toward my power, even when I’m afraid to reach for it.

“If you go up there,” Mom says suddenly, the sound unwavering, “then I’m going, too.”

Eli’s fingers stroke the back of my neck, a gesture that’s both comforting and intimate.

“We’ll go when you’re ready,” he says.

I glance down at what I’m wearing. His T-shirt, borrowed sweats, and a pair of old sneakers. Not exactly first-contact attire. But it’ll have to do.