Page 157 of Aviatrix

Mom notices. Nothing gets past her. Her gaze flicks between us like a radar locking on.

“Kinley,” Mom says, her expression faltering. “Why aren’t you wearing your engagement ring?”

Oh no.

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

The sound of boots slamming against concrete floor steals my attention.

Someone’s burst into the mess hall, breathless.

“Aliens!”

My fork drops. So much for breakfast.

THIRTY-FOUR

NOT EXACTLY FIRST CONTACT ATTIRE

The base is in chaos. People are running. Some screaming. I don’t know whether to run, too, or stay seated and brace for what’s coming.

Lark makes the decision for me.

“Take your mom to the briefing room,” he orders. “Lock the door. Don’t open it unless you know the voice on the other side.”

I nod. Mom’s already on her feet, her expression stone-solid as she follows me.

We push against the current. Bodies crash past us in a wave of panic. Some shove without apology. Others have guns drawn, barking threats about blowing the aliens’ heads off. And then there are the ones fumbling at door handles, trying to lock themselves inside. Their faces are pale, drenched in sweat, terror written in every twitch.

I keep one hand on Mom’s arm, absorbing every shoulder check and hip shove that comes our way.

“We’re almost there,” I call over my shoulder.

When we finally reach the briefing room, I shove the door open. But before Mom can step inside, I catch sight of someone at the end of the hallway, frozen in place.

Eli.

He can’t move.

Too many guns.

“I’ll be right back,” I promise Mom as I push her inside and slam the door shut behind her.

I move, weaving through the chaos.

“Eli!” I shout, closing the distance.

He looks up, his chest rising and falling in jagged breaths. “I’m fine, Quay. I just… need a minute.”

I never asked, but I know. His mother was gunned down by someone. Since then, Eli’s never done well around them. I don’t know the full story. I’ve never pushed. Some things are easier to carry when they’re cloaked in darkness.

“Come with me,” I say, reaching for his hand. “Come on, Eli.”

He lets me guide him, our pace syncing as we follow the current instead of fighting it.

Just before we reach the door, he stops. Pulls me to him.