“He knew I was on that plane.”
The implication hung in the air.
Not coincidence.
Not chance.
Planned.
Hayes exhaled slowly. “You think it was meant for you?”
Mara didn’t answer right away.
But she didn’t need to.
Somewhere, far beyond the clouds, a storm was forming again.
And this time…
It wasn’t just about survival.
It was about unfinished history.
Later that night, alone in her quarters, Mara sat at the edge of her bed, staring at a small object resting in her hand.
A worn metal insignia.
Her old squadron.
She had carried it through everything—missions, losses, silence.
And now… it felt heavier than ever.
Her phone buzzed softly on the table.
Unknown number.
She hesitated—just for a second—before answering.
Silence.
Then—
A faint crackle.
And a voice she would never forget.
