Isaak
IsaakSitting in the pilot’s seat of my favorite fighter, Malik’s identical ship visible on my flight screen, I finally felt like I had come home.
My father’s silence from the seat next to me was all too familiar as well, so I chose to ignore it and addressed Erick through the comms rather than fumble my way through awkward conversation with a male who clearly did not wish to speak to me. I’d never once flown with him, learning from instructors or by pure seat-of-the-pants instinct.
“Coordinates transmitted, Erick. Verify,” I said.
“Verified. What’s the plan, Isaak?” There he was, my old friend. If he touched Zara again, I’d have to rethink his role. Out here, flying, I was in command, but we were more than soldiers to one another. We had always been close, me, Malik, and Erick. B
