He shook his head slowly, like his brain couldn’t find a place to file me.
On the radio, Eagle Lead spoke again, softer this time.
“It’s an honor to hear your voice, ma’am.”
My fingers tightened on the yoke. Memories flashed—training runs, hard landings, faces that never came home.
And the last mission I ever flew.
The one that ended everything.
“Stay with me,” I said into the mic. “We’re bringing them down.”
Control cleared a runway somewhere on the coast—one of those long strips that always looks too thin until you’re praying for it.
“Falcon One, you are cleared to land,” the controller said. “Runway 27. Winds light.”
I nodded like they could see me.
“Flaps,” I told the co-pilot.
He moved fast now, calmer, like my voice had become his spine.
“Gear down.”
The sound of the landing gear locking hit me in the chest like a heartbeat.
