Page 29 of Aviatrix

He takes a step closer. There’s a question in his eyes. A silent request.

I nod—barely—just enough to signal I won’t stop him.

His arms wrap around my waist. A firm, soothing hold.

“Pocket,” he murmurs.

I feel it then. His fingers slipping something into the back pocket of my pants.

I inhale sharply. Mint and jet fuel. It hits like a memory grenade. The Academy. Drinks at the Flight Deck. Hours tangled in sheets. Stolen kisses and seconds that felt like forever. It aches. Not like Lark’s betrayal, crisp and cutting. This is a slow burn. The ache of what I lost. The ache of what I still want.

“Don’t trust anyone,” Eli whispers as he pulls back, voice like gravel. His eyes flick to Lark. “Especially him.”

He turns and heads back to his aircraft, striding like he owns the sky.

I watch him go, my heart caught between impulse and restraint. Part of me wants to follow. To demand answers. To leave it all behind.

But I stay planted in place because he always leaves, and Lark? Lark stays just long enough to shatter what’s left.

Eli takes off, vanishing into the sky like a ghost who never belonged on the ground while beside me, Lark stands still. Close enough that I can feel the tension rolling off him, but far enough that I can pretend he’s not there.

“What did you ever see in him?” Lark grumbles.

I huff a bitter laugh and turn toward him. “He didn’t cheat on me. You did.”

He flinches. Just a little, but I catch it. And for a breath, I see something raw behind his eyes. Regret, maybe. Or guilt. Gina’s death is tied to his betrayal now. It haunts him. I know it does.

I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t feel anything. But I do. And I hate that I do.

He schools his features back into military-grade neutrality. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah,” I say dryly. “You’ve been saying that since the control tower.”

He gestures toward the building behind him. “Come on. We’ll head inside. It’s the only place I trust.”

“Trust?” I echo, pulse quickening. “Is it not safe out here?”

Lark doesn’t answer. He just walks and I follow him inside. Maybe a little curious, but more scared than I’d like to admit.

After a maze of underground hallways, he finally stops in front of a metal door and punches in a key code. It clicks open. I don’t bother trying to catch the digits. I’m too tired. Too frayed. And frankly, I’m more interested in whatever Eli slipped into my pocket than whatever truth Lark’s finally ready to offer.

And I know that’s a red flag. But I’m more curious than cautious.

I don’t want to be here. I want to be with my team. With Gary, Scooter, and Thea. And I want to demand answers from Eli. Why does he keep showing up? Why does he keep leaving?

“Sit,” Lark says, gesturing to the twin-sized bed.

I arch a brow and shake my head as I lean against the closed door. “I’m good.”

Beds and Lark? Historically bad news.

He drags a hand through his blond hair, frustrated. “Fine.”

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask, my gaze sweeping the bunker. Gray walls. A single overhead bulb. An army-green trunk. That narrow bed. Nothing in here breathes. Nothing in here comforts.

And still, somehow, I know the truth I’m about to hear will change everything.

Lark doesn’t answer right away. He moves to the desk instead, dragging the chair back with a metallic scrape, then sits down with a sigh that sounds too old for someone in his early forties.