Her eyes fixed on the fighters.
She knew those tail markings.
First Fighter Wing.
Langley.
And they were far from home.
High-alert intercept.
The intercom crackled.
“We are dealing with a critical security situation,” the captain said, his voice thin with fear. “Military aircraft have ordered us to hold. All communications are jammed. Please… remain seated.”
“No signal!” Bradley shouted. “They’re going to shoot us down!”
“They don’t shoot aircraft sitting on the ground.”
Dana’s voice cut straight through his panic.
Bradley snapped toward her. “How would you know?!”
Dana leaned closer to the glass.
The Raptor’s cockpit sat nearly level with her eyes. Mirrored visor. Gloved hands resting on the controls at an angle she knew too well.
Then she recognized the pilot.
Captain Jack Reyes.
Call sign Viper.
Two years earlier, he had been her wingman above a burning desert.
Two years earlier, she had been his flight lead.
Major Dana “Wraith” Callahan.
Inside the cockpit, Viper raised his left hand.
One sharp gesture.
A classified tactical command.
Identify threat status.
The civilian pilots wouldn’t understand it.
And Dana could already see snipers moving into position on the tarmac.
A voice inside her told her to stay seated.
She had walked away.
She was finished.
Then she looked at Megan.
