Page 43 of Aviatrix

I force a smile. “This is not…”

“Not what?” she prompts gently.

“This is not how it was supposed to go.”

She exhales, and for a second, I remember how young she is. The youngest certified flyer in years and already in the middle of a war.

“We trained for this,” she reminds me, eyes soft but sure. “This is what we’re built for.”

I nod, even if it’s half-hearted. “Tell Altas and Fox I’ll be there soon?”

Thea hugs me tight. “I’m always one flight away.”

Tears sting, uninvited. Too many goodbyes today.

“Same.”

She disappears down the same hallway Lark did.

I take a breath. No more crying. No more waiting.

It’s time to find some answers and remind them whose skies they’re flying in.

“I need a jet,” I say to an airman in the sun-bleached hangar when I reach it.

He jogs over to another. They confer quickly while I stand motionless, watching the sun climb higher into the sky. It’s not even noon and the world already feels like it’s ending.

What if Amber didn’t make it?

What do I even do with that? She’s not my daughter, but we’ve always had a good relationship. She was sixteen when Lark and I started dating. People said I was crazy for being with someone ten years older, but I was twenty-nine. And after my dad left, I’d grown up fast. The age gap never bothered me.

Until now.

Until I was naively thinking about children… and he was thinking about Gina. Or his best friend’s death. Or the guilt eating him alive. I don’t even know anymore.

I force myself to compartmentalize.

Alien attack. Langdon. The Legion.

Project Aviatrix. A burning White House.

Two different ships—one black and fluid, the other gray and sleek.

Lark. Amber. Wingard. Gina.

Vice President Julian Rourke.

Gary. Scooter. Thea.

And the last name on that list?

Eli.

He doesn’t belong here. Not in this mess. But always shows up when the sky falls. So, maybe he does.

They’re all separate. But deep inside, I know they have to be connected. I just haven’t figured out how yet.

I will.