Kaz leans his head back against the glass. Eyes closed. Like he’s trying to feel something he’s not ready to name.
I turn before he can spot me.
And I walk away.
Because I don’t know how to save him.
And worse—I don’t know if he wants to be saved.
CHAPTER 21
KAZ
The sim rig’s cockpit seals around me like a coffin with a god complex.
It hisses and locks, dim lighting flickering overhead as the flight deck vanishes and the stars bloom above me—false stars, sure, stitched together from data feeds and projection overlays. But I feel them in my blood all the same.
Low-orbit stealth run. Final trial.
We’re not told what the full parameters are. Just that it’s fast, dirty, and under fire. No margin for error. One shot to prove you’re First Ray material.
My fingers flex over the controls. My heart’s already beating too fast.
Nova’s voice isn’t in my ear this time. No comms. No guidance. Just silence and the hum of the simulator trying to be a battlefield.
For a second, I wish she was here. Just one glance. One nod. One word. But I shake it off before the thought fully lands.
This is mine.
The countdown blinks red: 3… 2… 1…
Go.
The thrusters surge beneath me. I launch into the black with a force that makes my breath hitch.
Enemy signatures light up immediately—drones mimicking Coalition fighters. Smart AI. Relentless. Fast.
I cut low, banking hard through the atmosphere drag. Hull rattles. The ship moans like it knows it’s being pushed to hell and back.
Radar pings. Two bogies at nine o’clock.
I dive.
Roll under the lock, fire chaff mid-twist. They bite the bait.
“Come on,” I whisper, not sure if I’m talking to them or myself.
Another missile locks.
I flip. Slide back on reverse thrust. A second of negative G—my vision grays at the edges. But I recover just in time to thread between two debris markers like threading a needle blind.
The sim shudders, throwing turbulence that isn't real but sure as hell feels like it.
My heart’s in my throat. My mouth’s dry.
But I’m flying.
Not just surviving.Owningthe sky.
