Page 98 of Viking

It feels like they might comply. The plane wobbles slightly, losing altitude. But then a side hatch opens, and I see it—a missile launcher being prepped by one of the crew.

“Shit!” Dalton shouts. “They’re armed!”

“Viking, take the shot!” Townsend orders.

I don’t hesitate. My thumb presses the release, and the missile streaks forward. The cargo plane doesn’t stand a chance. The explosion is massive, briefly turning my cockpit into daylight. Debris rains down into the ocean, and for a moment, the comms are silent.

“Splash three. Target destroyed,” I say finally, my voice grim.

“Good work, boys,” Townsend says. “RTB. Let’s head home.”

Langley AFB

October 3, 2024

9:13 a.m.

Lila

I’m buried in press releases, trying to piece together highlights from the last airshow, when a knock sounds on my office door, followed immediately by it swinging open.

I look up, startled, and my eyes lock onto a man standing in the doorway. He’s strikingly handsome—tall and broad-shouldered, with dark blond hair that’s just tousled enough to look effortless. His flight suit clings perfectly to his muscular frame, and his confidence radiates in a way that would’ve drawn me in before Logan. His presence is commanding, almost too big for the small office. He grins, the kind of cocky, easy smile that belongs to someone who’s never been told no.

“Miss Mercer?” His voice is smooth, tinged with a slight Southern drawl that catches me off guard.

I force a polite smile, standing up from behind my desk. “Yes, I’m Lila.”

He steps inside, walking toward me, and extending a hand. “Captain Wells Bennett. Saint.”

Saint. The new pilot. The one taking Ryan’s place.

The air rushes from my lungs, and I scramble to keep my expression neutral. I reach out, shaking his hand. His grip is firm and warm. “Welcome to Langley, Captain Bennett.”

“Please, call me Wells,” he says, letting go of my hand and tucking both of his into his pockets. “Saber sent me to find you—said you’re the one actually running the show.”

I let out a soft laugh, lifting a brow. “Is that what he told you?”

“In so many words.” His smile is easy, the kind that probably sends most women’s hearts into a tailspin. Maybe mine too, if there were any part of it that didn’t belong to Logan. “Beautiful day today, isn’t it?” His eyes assess me slowly before he nods his head toward my window.

I tilt my head causing a long curled strand of my dark hair to fall across my face. Pushing it behind my ear, I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out why he’s talking to me about the weather. He’s wrong, too. I glance out the window behind my desk, at the gray clouds hanging low in the sky. “If you like chilly weather and cloudy skies, sure.”

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that seems to fill the room. “Trust me, this is paradise compared to Elmendorf. Five years in Alaska, and I’m still thawing out.”

I nod, a tightness building in my chest. “Elmendorf? Flying Raptors, I assume?”

“Got it in one,” he says, rocking back on his heels. “It’s all I know. I was sent out to Nellis in Nevada to learn, then flew out of Alaska ever since. Just transferred here.”

Nellis.

Nevada.

Vegas.

Logan.

“To join the squadron?” I ask, my voice catching slightly even though I already know. Asher announced it in yesterday’s afternoon briefing.

“That’s the plan,” he says casually. “Heard there were some shifts in personnel, and they needed someone to fill a slot.”