Chapter Three

Madison

C onversation died as I walked into the locker room.

Gritting my teeth, I did my best to ignore the sudden silence and cold shoulders as I went about getting ready for my shift.

“G’morning,” I said politely, hating myself for not being able to extinguish the spark of hope that they would respond.

It had been weeks now. Why would anything change?

Predictably, there was little more than a low mutter in response before the other pilots dispersed, leaving me in the locker room. Alone.

“ Oh, good morning, Mads, so good to see you,” I mocked to the empty air. “ How are you? Was your sleep good? I know, it’s hard to sleep, waiting to be called upon, knowing what's out there. But I managed to get a few hours at least. Glad you did, too. What are you going to have for breakfast? Oh my gosh, me, too!”

By the end, my tirade had gone from fake-cheer to sadness bordering on depression.

I’d lost them. My family. They hated me, and I hadn’t done a thing to earn it.

Finishing getting dressed, I headed for the mess hall to scarf down some food before the morning briefing. Not that it would be any different. We were in a holding pattern. Waiting for the next dragon push. Everyone knew it would be in Baltimore. It was just a matter of when it would come and how long we could delay them from reaching the White House after that.

Conversations slowed as I entered the room. Even in the mess hall, with its spaced-out tables and room for privacy when not full, they stopped talking when I came near. As if any of them possessed knowledge I couldn’t readily get on the internet. It was pathetic. I was no dragon spy, no traitor.

It didn’t matter.

I ate my food alone, away from everyone else, mechanically shoveling it into my mouth. There was no pleasure in the meal. No ability to savor anything. It just went in my mouth. I chewed, swallowed, and repeated until the plate was empty. In a few hours, I wouldn’t even be able to recall what had been on the plate.

Every meal was the same. Every briefing the same. I entered first. Picked a seat. Everyone sat as far from me as possible. At first, I’d sat in the middle, forcing the rest of the squadron to the outside of the room, but eventually, I’d relented. The military needed the rest of the squadron to be functional.

I was already thought of as a traitor. They had zero evidence, only the word of a tanker on what had happened, nothing more. There was nothing they could convict me on, but I had been put on restricted duty. I hadn’t touched a bird since my return.

Sitting down at a desk in the back left, I rested my head in the palm of my hand and waited for Lieutenant-Colonel Blazinsky to give the morning brief. My attention didn’t matter. My mission was always the same. Use the simulators. Don’t get in the way of anyone else. Be the squadron punching bag.

“Morning,” Blazinsky said as the others settled into their seats. “Today’s the same as any other day. Keep the birds warm and ready to deploy. Any questions?”

There were none.

“Dismissed.”

The pilots got up, jostling with one another and joking as they headed for the exit. I watched them go, reliving the days when Jill and I would have been right there with them, giving as good as we got.

Closing my eyes, I fought back the blurry eyes. Although the grief over losing her was easing with time, it never went away fully. The dragons had stolen Jill from me, but that was a risk we had known about. Expected, even. I would’ve hated them no less for it, but it was part of the job.

This abandonment, though? This was different. The pain was entirely different, and I didn’t know how to cope.

“Page.”

I jerked in surprise, rising out of my desk to attention in front of the squadron commander. “Sir!”

“At ease, Page.” The Lieutenant-Colonel didn’t look pleased to be addressing me. “You have a mission.”

Few things could’ve shocked me more. “Sir?” I questioned, fumbling for my voice, my composure, and even my balance for a split-second. “A mission?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No, sir!” I said formally.

“I didn’t think so.” Blazinsky was making no secret of his disdain for the fact that I apparently had a mission and the rest of the squadron didn’t.

“Regardless of the rumors said about me, I’ll make the squadron look good. I promise you that, sir.”

“You’d better,” he snapped. “This is important. It comes from somewhere so high above me it may as well be Mount fucking Olympus. So, you do this mission, and you do it so damn well you make everyone look like gods. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!” I said, unable to contain my eagerness. “I won’t fail you.”

“I certainly hope not.”

I nodded and listened while he explained the mission to me.

As he did, my heart sank.