Page 204 of Aviatrix

I called this morning. Just to say goodbye. Just in case.

I shouldn’t have, but they’re the only family I’ve got left. They’re the people who’ll be at my funeral. The ones who’ll speak my name long after others forget it.

This life is fleeting, especially when there’s always so much on the line. But it’s the life I chose. It’s cost me a lot. Family. Normalcy. Love.

I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

I’ve lived my life in service of another. Gave up everything so she could have something that resembled normal. And I’m doing it again. I’ll do it as many times as I have to.

Because Quay deserves a safe, peaceful life.

I exit the highway and turn down a rugged dirt road. There’s a strange white house up ahead with boarded windows and a sagging second-story porch.

For such a high-profile faction, the Legion sure chooses the shittiest places to meet. Abandoned warehouses. Boarded-up houses.

My thoughts drift to Camp Obsidian. To Quay being safe there. Then, I force her from my mind. I can’t let myself think about her. Not here. Not now.

I park in front and hop out. The contact said to knock on the front door seven times. A little odd, but whatever. I do it.

Footsteps. Then, the door creaks open.

A young woman with bright red hair peers out. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Major Eli Kopelman,” I tell her. “President Rourke asked me to join the team before his…” Untimely demise? Cold-blooded murder? “...passing,” I settle on.

She steps back. “Welcome, Major.”

I enter. The bare wooden floor groans under my weight.

“You’ll need a hat,” she says, nodding toward a small table.

I pick one up. It’s not tin, but a strange, shiny gray material. And it’s cone-shaped.

Guess crazy, bronze-eyed Walker from Area 51 Diner wasn’t lying after all.

“Well?” the woman raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to put it on, or stare at it all day?”

I clear my throat. “Putting it on now.”

I slide it over my head, feeling utterly ridiculous.

She leads me up a narrow staircase.

“Watch that step,” she warns, pointing to a massive hole in the wood.

I step over it, trying not to read too much into the symbolism.

Is this a briefing… or a walk to my beheading?

Hard to tell. Though I don’t know why they'd make me wear a shiny-ass hat first.

“In here,” she says, pushing open a door.

It’s not a bedroom, but a converted meeting space. There’s a long wooden table, eight tall-backed chairs, and a fireplace. A few people are already seated, none of whom I recognize. A chandelier overhead flickers weakly, casting half the room in shadow.

There’s nothing warm about this place. It’s cold. Calculated. Impersonal.

“Major Eli Kopelman,” the redhead announces.