The alarm ripped through the operations floor before I could close the DARPA email.

I shot to my feet and ran for the classified maintenance bay.

I had been grounded for review for the past year, and that section had been under my supervision the entire time. I knew the condition of every aircraft inside better than anyone.

When I reached the hangar, red warning lights swept across the concrete floor. At the far bay, Chloe Bennett stood beside my jet, clutching a restricted maintenance terminal.

My stomach dropped.

That terminal was linked to the aircraft's emergency purge system. Once activated, it would burn through the classified avionics bay and destroy every protected system on board. A junior flight candidate had no business touching it.

"Put it down," I said.

Chloe turned as if startled, her eyes already red. "Ava, I was only checking the diagnostic panel. I thought Ethan wanted me to learn the system."

"Put the terminal on the floor and step away from the aircraft."

She looked down at the red warning on the screen as if she suddenly could not read. "I didn't know it was dangerous."

"You passed emergency equipment identification on your first day here. Don't pretend."

Her fingers tightened.

The next second, the confirmation tone cut through the alarm.

The purge sequence activated.

I lunged for the cable, but I was too late. The first purge charge detonated, and the blast threw me across the hangar floor. My shoulder slammed into the concrete, and for a moment, all I could hear was a high, empty ringing.

When my vision cleared, the jet that had carried me through storms, war zones, and too many impossible missions was burning from the inside. White suppressant and black smoke poured from the open panels as the avionics bay collapsed into sparks.

I felt no pain.

Only something inside me burning out with it.

When I woke again, I was in the infirmary.

A medic was cleaning the cuts along my arm. I closed my eyes, but the fire and the smell of scorched metal were still there.

The door opened.

Ethan came in first, uniform sharp, face unreadable. Chloe followed him with red eyes, both hands wrapped around a paper cup.

She spoke before he could. "Ava scared me. I thought it was a basic diagnostic. She rushed at me, and I panicked. I really didn't know that button would cause so much damage."

A short laugh scraped out of my throat.

"You didn't know a red-tagged emergency purge system was dangerous?"

She bit her lip and looked to Ethan for help.

I looked at him too. "Everyone who enters this base learns restricted emergency systems on day one. She knew how to log in, bypass the warning, and confirm execution."

Ethan's gaze moved from Chloe to me.

In that second, I already knew whose version he would choose.

"The aircraft is destroyed," he said. "Whatever happened, the classified maintenance bay was under your supervision."

I stared at him.

His tone was calm, like he was filing an incident report. "You were responsible for preventing unauthorized access to active systems. You share responsibility for this failure."

For a moment, the man in front of me felt like a stranger.

He was Ethan Hale, the commander whose voice had once guided me through a thunderstorm, the flight partner I had trusted with my life in the air.

Now he stood beside Chloe and handed the blame for my destroyed aircraft back to me.

I only said, "Understood."

He seemed to pause, as if he had expected me to argue.

Then his voice returned to business. "There's an emergency escort mission tonight. A defense scientist needs extraction from a remote test site before the weather shuts the area down."

I looked up.

Ethan watched me closely. "This can be added to your evaluation file. If you complete it cleanly, the board may reconsider your final review."

Once, I would have asked if he meant it. I would have promised him I could do it.

This time, I only stood.

The medic moved to stop me. "Major Morgan, you shouldn't be moving yet."

"I'm fine."

Ethan frowned. "Ava--"

"I said I'm fine."

Chloe sniffled behind him, but I did not look at her again.

Today was the anniversary Ethan had once promised he would never forget. I had not reminded him. I wanted to see whether he would remember on his own.

Instead, he gave Chloe another excuse, another shield, and let her destroy one of the most important parts of my life.

Ethan seemed to be waiting for a reaction, anger, gratitude, maybe the old fire I used to show whenever he handed me an impossible mission.

I gave him nothing.

"I'll take the mission," I said. "Send the file to my terminal."

His expression finally shifted. "You know what this means."

"I know."

It meant I had one last chance to fly, and one last mission to complete under his command before I walked away clean.

I passed him at the door.

He seemed to reach for me, then stopped.

"Ava."

I did not turn back.

After this mission, I would submit my resignation, the divorce papers, and the one thing from our past I should have returned years ago.

I had mistaken loyalty for love for too long.

It was time to wake up.

The escort mission was worse than expected.

The wind had already picked up outside the remote test site, and turbulence pressed through the valley in stacked layers. When I took off with Dr. Hayes on board, the aircraft bucked hard enough to trigger a short warning tone. I held the stick steady, cut along the edge of the cloud wall, and fought through several crosswinds that nearly pushed us back toward the storm.

Dr. Hayes did not speak the entire flight.

After landing, he unfastened his harness and took a black credential folder from his briefcase.

"Headquarters has already arranged your new identity, Major Ava Morgan," he said. "Arlington wants you on site as soon as possible."

I opened the folder and saw the DARPA clearance mark.

"Tomorrow."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "That can be done."

Before I flew back, I entered the confirmation code printed inside the folder.

On the return flight, I kept my eyes on the route. Twenty minutes from North Ridge Air Base, the radar display flickered once, then the flight path vanished. At the same time, every communication channel went dead.

My chest tightened.

I switched to the backup frequency.

Nothing.

I ran every emergency procedure I knew, but the screen stayed blank. Fuel kept dropping while I circled outside the base, and by the time the gauge neared the red line, I was preparing for a blind approach.

Then a thread of static crackled through my headset.

I keyed the mic at once. "This is Morgan requesting landing guidance. Repeat, requesting--"

I stopped.

The line had not connected to the tower.

It was Ethan's private command channel.

Chloe's voice came through, thick with tears. "You're really married to Ava?"

After a short silence, Ethan said, "Yes."

"Then what am I?" Chloe cried harder. "You saved me. You promised you would protect me. She has everything now. What do I have?"

My grip tightened around the stick.

Ethan's voice softened, and the gentleness in it turned my stomach cold.

"I'll protect you. Ava will understand."

The fuel warning screamed in my ear.

I forced my attention back to the instruments and followed what little positioning data I still had. By the time tower contact came back, I was near the edge of the minimum safe fuel limit.

Ethan's voice cut into the channel almost immediately.

"Why did this take so long? Your fuel is near critical."

I did not explain. "Requesting nearest runway."

The tower began to answer, but Chloe's sharp voice broke through first.

"No, not Runway Three! The joint demonstration is tomorrow. They just cleared that strip. You can't let a damaged aircraft land there."

I nearly laughed.

Runway Three was the closest option. It was the only safe one.

There was chaos over the comms, like someone trying to pull her away. A few seconds later, Ethan came back on, his voice cold and official.

"Ava, divert to Runway Five."

Runway Five was on the far side of the base.

I looked at the fuel warning. "Insufficient fuel to reach Runway Five."

"You can make it with your skill."

"I cannot."

"Ava, that is an order."

I cut the channel and dropped toward Runway Three.

The runway lights stretched toward me fast. I lowered the landing gear, and the whole frame shuddered. In the final approach, a base service vehicle suddenly shot onto the edge of the runway. The door flew open, and Chloe stumbled out as if she meant to force me away with her own body.

I yanked the stick back.

The landing gear scraped the runway edge, and the aircraft lurched out of balance. The left wing slammed into the barrier, sparks tearing across the ground. My harness cut into my chest as I crashed forward against the instrument panel, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

Before I blacked out, I saw Ethan running toward the runway.

He gathered Chloe into his arms.

He did not even look in my direction.

When I woke again, I was in a hospital room.

Every breath hurt as if broken glass had been packed inside my ribs. Ethan stood beside the bed. When he saw my eyes open, he only said, "You're awake."

I did not answer.

From the next bed, Chloe sobbed in broken breaths. Her face was pale, and a nurse was adjusting the oxygen tube beneath her nose.

"I was so scared," she whispered. "When Ava's aircraft came down, I thought I was going to die."

Ethan looked at me, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"Apologize to Chloe."

I slowly turned my head toward him.

He went on. "Your reckless landing triggered an acute panic response. Ava, apologize."

My ribs might have been broken. My right hand was nearly numb. My throat tasted of blood.

And he wanted me to apologize to Chloe.

The room went silent enough to be absurd.

I pulled the IV from the back of my hand and pushed myself upright.

Ethan frowned. "Where are you going?"

"I refuse."

His expression changed. "Ava."

I ignored him, changed out of the hospital gown, shouldered my flight bag, and walked out of the room.

A DARPA helicopter was already waiting on the hospital helipad.

Before I left, I placed three things on the bedside table.

The first was my resignation.

The second was the divorce agreement.

The third was an old St. Christopher medal.

It was the token Ethan had pressed into my palm the day he saved me.

Now I did not want it anymore.