Page 183 of Aviatrix

I freeze, breath catching in my throat.

President Julian Rourke.

He’s smiling wide and smug, and somehow it’s both welcoming and cold.

“Come on in, Colonel,” he drawls. “And… team.”

Eli’s face drains of color.

We walked straight into it.

Without a word, he shifts to put himself between Rourke and me.

We step into a windowless room more suited for interrogations than debriefings. A long table pierces down the center, surrounded by chairs no one is using.

The door shuts with a solid clunk. Locks slide into place.

And we’re not alone.

There are seven Secret Service agents inside. I recognize a couple from past White House visits with Lark. This is where all the muscle went—protecting Rourke’s escape instead of evacuating civilians.

None of them look particularly thrilled to see us. Whatever this is, it’s not good.

“Where is my daughter?” Lark demands, already stepping forward as one of the agents edges closer to me.

Rourke raises a greasy hand, his hair gelled and shiny under the fluorescent lights. He has the slicked-back look of someone who thinks power makes him untouchable.

“Calm down, Colonel,” Rourke says with mock politeness. “She’s safe.”

“I want to see my daughter.” Lark’s demand is steel.

“Let’s all just chat for a second,” Rourke deflects, like we’re old friends catching up in a conference room.

Eli shifts, stepping fully between me and the advancing agent. I feel him do something subtle, maybe reach for a weapon, but I’m too focused on Rourke to process it.

“You defied orders, Colonel,” Rourke tsks. “And I told the General that if you stepped out of line one more time, you’d be stripped of every title you hold.”

Lark raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’ve done more for this country in my twenty-year career than you’ll ever do for the American people.”

Rourke lets out a cruel laugh. “You talk a big game. But we all know your sins, don’t we?”

Your sins?

My mind races back to that sketchy text thread I found on Lark’s phone seven months ago.

I know what you did.

You can’t keep running from your sins.

Sooner or later, someone is going to find out the truth.

You’re a terrible person.

I hope you rot in hell.

Rourke must have sent that.

Which means he also must have planted Gina Douglas as Lark’s secretary to, like Eli said, fuck the secrets out of him.