Page 122 of Aviatrix

I pause. “Do you, uh… still have my ring?”

Lark pats the pocket on his chest. “Yeah. Right here.”

I hold out my hand. “Can I have it?”

He unbuttons the flap and pulls it out. The ring I wore for nearly seven months. I slip it back on. It feels heavy now. Weighted with history.

It’s a lie we’ve told before, pretending to be something we’re not.

But this time, it might get us killed.

I look at the ring and think about all the ways it used to matter. All the ways it still does.

Not because of Lark, but because of what it represents. Stepping into the fire. Making the impossible choice.

Eli’s face flashes behind my eyes. And I start crumbling again. But I can’t. I have to be strong now. For my team, for Amber, for myself.

“If we make it out alive,” I say, lifting my chin, “we blow Rourke to shreds.”

Lark gives me a crooked smile. “Then, I guess we better make it out alive.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

WAR HELPS YOU SEE WHO THE REAL ENEMIES ARE

I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the two-carat princess-cut diamond Lark gave me on Higbee Beach last year. It glints under the harsh fluorescent lighting, catching on every thought I’m trying to ignore.

Across the room, Sasha and Thea argue about whether Sasha is technically part of Operation Thundershock—Gary’s original task force back when the alien threat was still just a whispered possibility.

It feels like another life. Another century. Another version of me.

Back then, life was simple but complicated in ways I couldn’t explain.

Now? Life is complicated, but simple in ways I finally can.

I know what matters. Every moment carries weight. Every breath is borrowed.

I want answers. About my dad’s disappearance. About why—and how—he built VAL. About Eli’s possible wreckage site. About why aliens are here, and why Rourke thinks he’s entitled to use them as a smokescreen for his own corruption.

But more than that, I know this as the diamond stares back at me: Lark and I were never going to work.

We looked good on paper. We got along. He never remembered anniversaries or birthdays. That always stung. But he did make breakfast. He left notes on my pillow before heading off on classified missions. Short ones.

He shouldn’t have cheated.

But honestly? I’m glad he did. It broke us, but it made room for Eli to come back into my life. And even if it was only for a few stolen days… it was worth the heartbreak. Even the shattering.

“Earth to Kinley?” Sasha snaps her fingers in front of my face.

I clear the emotion out of my throat and look up. “Yeah?”

“I’m part of the team, right?” she asks, lifting a perfectly sculpted brow.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Ask Atlas.”

“She doesn’t even have a call sign,” Thea mutters. “She can’t be on the team.”

She does have a call sign, but she promised to kick my ass if I ever repeated it outside of the Academy.