A D R I A N
The sea keeps the echo long after the flare dies. In the pause between thunder and surf, I can still taste the smoke on the wind. Elara’s hand is still there, warm against mine, trembling, defiant. One heartbeat of stillness, then I move. The decision isn’t noble or careful; it’s pure instinct, the kind that’s gotten me through storms and boardrooms alike.
“Gear up,” I tell her. My voice comes out rougher than I intended. She doesn’t argue. Headset. Harness. Her fingers shake only once before she locks the clip.
“Ethan, Roco, secondary skiff,” I ordered. “Track our signal and stay on the channel. If we lose contact, you wait for daylight, understand?”
“Copy,” Ethan’s voice crackles through the static. “Don’t get clever, boss.”
“No promises.”
Roco’s grin flashes once in th
