Page 136 of Aviatrix

“Ready?” he asks, locking his hand in mine, our fingers tangling together.

I take a breath. “Ready.”

We bolt.

My lungs burn. My legs scream. My high heels cut into my ankles with every step.

VAL isn’t far now. Maybe fifty yards.

But then a shadow falls across our path.

We freeze mid-run.

Two sleek, gray, unmistakably Earth-made ships descend. Not alien. Not anymore. These aren’t theirs. They’re Rourke’s. Reverse-engineered. American killers wearing an alien face.

Their weapons lock on us.

This is not how I want to die. I’m not ready.

Is anyone ever ready?

“We’re surrounded!” I shout over the roar of the engines.

“Atlas! Fox! Where are you?” Lark yells into his mic.

But the way his face falls says everything. Gary and Scooter are occupied. Too busy saving lives to save us.

“This isn’t how I wanted it to end, Kin,” Lark says as we stand our ground. The gun in my hand feels pointless against ships like these. Against artificial intelligence.

I drop it.

“We saved Amber,” I say. “That feels like a win to me.”

“We could still try to make a run for it,” he offers.

“I don’t know.” My heart pounds, torn between fight and flight. Do we run and risk getting gunned down? Or stay here, sitting ducks?

“What now, Kin?” Lark asks. He always leads. Not this time.

This time, he waits for me.

“I think we should run,” I say, steady and calm. Amber’s safe. That has to be enough. “If we go down, we go down fighting.”

The ships hover, their engines whirring above us.

Lark and I lock eyes, then bolt.

They open fire, rounds slicing the air overhead. But the tree cover—sparse as it is—throws off their aim just enough.

“VAL!” I scream as we race forward. She hears me. Lights flicker across her matte-black surface in response.

“Keep going!” Lark shouts. “We’re almost there!”

Then, one of the ships drops directly in front of her, blocking the path. Its blacked-out windows offer no glimpse of the pilot inside.

Lark and I skid to a halt.

This is it.