Page 23 of Aviatrix

He looks at me, surprised by the interruption. Good.

“We were attacked. No warning. Langdon was off-grid. Invisible. But someone leaked it. And instead of asking who gave them the coordinates, you’re blaming your son?” I take a step closer. “Colonel Jones is now the lead on Alien Warfare. I assume General Salamander briefed you. So, unless you’ve got answers we don’t, maybe stop pretending like this is about you and let us do our jobs.”

Amber gasps. Lark closes his eyes like I’ve punched God in the face. “Kin,” he mutters under his breath.

I don’t apologize. Not this time.

The President smiles, slow and smug. “Captain Quay, you’re out of line.”

I nod once. “We lost people today, Mr. President. Pilots. Crew. Family. It’s been a long four hours, and we’re still in the dark. If you have something to say, say it. If not? Stop wasting our time.”

He exhales, a reluctant shift. “Fair enough. We don’t know how they bypassed detection, but they did. Their technology is decades—maybe centuries—ahead of ours, as you witnessed firsthand. We don’t know when they’ll strike again, but tomorrow, I need both of you ready for a press conference. After that, you can resume your duties.”

A tight smile. Then, he’s gone. No apology. No real plan. Just politics and damage control.

“I can’t believe you talked to Grandpa like that,” Amber whispers, eyes wide as she rushes to me and throws her arms around my waist. She still sees a man worth defending. I see the man who tried to make his son bleed on command. “I’m glad you’re okay, Kinley. When I heard what happened, I was terrified.”

I brush her hair off her shoulder, heart catching at the gesture. “We’re fine,” I say gently. “You don’t need to worry. We’re all together.”

But even as I speak, the words fall flat.

Together doesn’t mean safe.

“Should we grab dinner?” she offers, like we aren’t standing on the edge of global collapse.

“I need to call my mom,” I murmur. “But you and your dad should catch up.”

Amber’s smile is sweet, untouched. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Lark rises beside her. “It’s been a long day, sweetheart. We’ll try for breakfast in the morning.”

I give him the smallest nod of gratitude. A rare moment of unity.

Then, we’re ushered out, parted into different corridors. Amber and Lark one way, me another.

By the time I reach the room—the one I’ve shared with Lark every time we've visited—I’m unraveling.

And, as soon as the door closes, I break.

The tears come hard and fast. No one here to see me fold. No uniform to maintain. No grief to swallow down for the sake of rank or protocol.

Just me. A girl in a borrowed room. Mourning a life already gone.

Langdon is gone.

Lark betrayed me.

Eli still haunts me.

And aliens?

They knew my name. I don’t know if that means I’m chosen or already marked.

I only know this: this isn’t war. It’s a hunt and we’re the prey.

I find a pair of pajamas folded neatly in the drawer—mine from a visit months ago—and pull them on with numb hands. Then, I pick up the landline on the bedside table.

Mom answers on the first ring.