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.