Page 46 of Viking

And if it’s real, then I have something to lose.

Her.

I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off, her voice quieter now, trembling at the edges. “You don’t get it, do you? The not knowing…it’s not just about you deploying. It’s the space it leaves—the emptiness it carves out when someone’s just gone.”

I step closer, my heart pounding. “Lila—”

“My brother was a pilot,” she blurts out, her voice cracking like glass under pressure. “He died almost ten years ago.”

The room spins.

My heart stops, then starts again in a way that feels wrong.

Reaper.

The name echoes in my mind, crashing against the walls of my skull.

I can’t breathe.

Lila swipes at her face, like she’s surprised by the tears spilling over. “Lincoln was everything. My best friend. My hero. And one day, he was just…gone. No warning. No time to prepare. Just a folded flag and a letter.”

I stare at her, my throat closing around the words I’ll never say.

I was there.

I was his wingman, the one meant to have his six.

I was supposed to save him.

The guilt is a monster living inside me, clawing at my heart, my stomach, my lungs, tearing me apart from the inside out.

“I’m sorry,” I manage. My voice is foreign in my ears.

She shakes her head, backing away a step. She takes my face in her small hands and I force myself to look into her eyes. “You don’t have to be sorry.” She has never said anything less true. “I think you would have liked him though. He flew F-16s but he wanted to fly Raptors one day. He’s actually the reason I wanted to work with the demo team, to try to feel close to him again. It’s the only way I’d get to be around an F-22 as a civilian, you know? So I wanted it. Worked for the last six years to be ready to apply once a position opened up. I thought it’d bring me back to him and I think it has, but it also brought me back to you, too. Or maybe he did. And seeing how much you love it, well, that reminds me of him, too.”

I feel sick. I feel like a fucking coward. I want to tell her the truth, but I’m frozen—trapped between the man I am and the mistakes I can’t undo.

Instead, I pull her into my arms. She resists for a second, fists against my chest, but then she breaks, crumbling into me with a sob that rips straight through my heart. I hold her like she’s the only thing tethering me to the earth, burying my face in her hair, breathing her in like she’s oxygen. “I’m here,” I whisper, the words hollow with everything I’m not saying. “I’m right here.”

But part of me is still there—in the sky, in the cockpit—watching Reaper’s jet disappear in a flash of fire, knowing I couldn’t save him.

Knowing I can’t save myself from this.

Lila’s sobs taper off, fading into the ragged, uneven sound of her breathing muffed by my T-shirt. But I can still feel it—the way her grief lingers between us like smoke after a fire. My arms are wrapped around her, holding her tight, but it feels like I’m trying to contain something too vast, too broken, slipping through the cracks of my fingers no matter how hard I hold on.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at me. Her eyes are glassy, rimmed with red, but there’s this defiance in them—like she’s daring herself not to fall apart again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you. I just—” She cuts herself off, pressing her lips together, like if she says any more, she’ll shatter completely.

My heart clenches. I want to tell her. I want to get it out, rip it open, bleed the truth between us. But the words stick like barbed wire in my throat. What would it even change? It wouldn’t bring him back. It wouldn’t make her grief any less. It would only add another layer of betrayal—a fracture splitting through already broken bone.

So I don’t say it. I swallow the truth like poison, letting it settle in the pit of my stomach where all the other things I’ve buried live.

Instead, I brush a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering just a second longer than they should. “You don’t have to apologize,” I say softly. “I’d rather you tell me everything than hold it in. I’m here, Lila. I’m not going anywhere.”

The words feel like a lie, knowing my potentially going somewhere is what started all of this. The sky has never been a promise of permanence. It’s always been fleeting.

She nods, her bottom lip trembling slightly before she bites down on it, trying to keep it together. She steps out of my arms, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.