Chapter 2: Hunter
1277 Words
(POV: Kai)
Amelia Thorne had always been the one thing I could never control.
And now, after ten years, she was back—right in my flight path. As if the sky itself had planned this meeting. As if whatever story we started had never truly ended.
The morning sky was too calm. I’ve never liked a sky that’s too calm, because stillness is usually just the pause before something breaks.
Thousands of feet above ground, the F-35B Lightning moved smoothly under my control, slicing through thin air with near-silent precision. The engine’s vibration was steady—smooth, consistent—like something that had become part of me, an extension of my body I no longer had to think about.
All indicators are green. No interference. No threats. No errors. Perfect.
And that was exactly the problem.
I shifted slightly in my seat, adjusting my grip on the controls. My eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, but my mind wasn’t entirely there. A sky this calm always felt suspicious.
Or maybe it wasn’t the sky that was off.
Maybe it was me.
“Shadow-1 in position. Awaiting instructions.”
My voice came out flat, professional, stripped of emotion—exactly as expected. On the radio, there was no room for anything else.
“Shadow-1, maintain course. Atlas-1 will enter the sector in two minutes.”
Atlas-1.
That one word was enough.
I didn’t react physically, but something inside me tightened instantly—as a guitar string pulled too hard, still vibrating long after the note was struck. Of course, I knew. Since the morning briefing. Since her name was mentioned.
Amelia Thorne.
It was never just a name. It was an echo that never really faded—always somewhere in the back of my mind. Buried, maybe. Ignored. But never gone.
I drew in a slow breath. Focus.
This is just a mission. Nothing more.
But I knew that wasn’t true. Too much had been left unfinished between us. Too many things were never properly closed. And now the sky had brought us together again—like it wasn’t done with us yet.
I tilted the aircraft slightly, adjusting my course with movements shaped by instinct. On the radar, a dot began to form. Large. Steady.
Atlas.
I held my gaze on it a second longer than necessary. Not the aircraft—
But who was inside it?
“Atlas-1, this is Shadow-1. Visual on your six.”
My tone remained controlled, but I could feel the shift in it—subtle, almost invisible. Something no one else would notice.
A brief silence followed, just long enough to be felt.
Then—
“Shadow-1, copy.”
Her voice.
I would recognize it anywhere, in any situation—even after all these years. More mature now. Colder. More controlled.
But still Amelia.
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips before I could stop it.
“So it’s true,” I murmured under my breath. “Amelia’s flying the Atlas.”
I knew I shouldn’t have said that. I knew the rules. The boundaries.
But some habits don’t die.
“Focus on your task, Dawson.”
Sharp. Direct. No unnecessary words.
I almost laughed. Still the same.
“Always,” I replied lightly. “Just making sure you don’t get lost again.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew it was a mistake. Too personal. Too familiar.
The radio fell silent again—
But this time, it wasn’t empty silence.
It was tension.
Something hanging between us, unseen but impossible to ignore.
I exhaled slowly, letting that tension settle, but my thoughts drifted anyway—far past Cranwell, further back than I intended.
Home. A warm morning, or at least it should have been.
I stood in the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee I hadn’t even touched. From the terrace, my father’s voice cut through the quiet.
“He needs discipline, Sandra! The Air Force—that’s what’ll make him a real man, not some academic who just talks.”
The word academic sounded like an insult. Like something to avoid at all costs.
I stayed silent, listening.
RAF.
It sounded distant. Unreal.
But also… tempting.
A way out. A way to leave everything behind. To be something other than just a Dawson.
And for reasons I couldn’t explain—
I wanted it.
Two days later, I saw her from my bedroom window.
Amelia.
A large box in her hands. And I knew immediately. The small print on the side said enough. RAF Entrance Preparation Guide.
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Of course, she wouldn’t let me step into a new battlefield alone.
Or maybe—
She had already been heading there first.
I leaned against the window, watching her.
“So we’re taking this to the next level, huh…” I murmured.
This war had never ended.
It just moved.
Cranwell. First day. Cold air. Wet pavement.
She was already there before I was ready.
We stood on opposite sides of the same parking lot, surrounded by parents talking about honor and logic—but we weren’t listening.
We were just looking at each other.
No smiles. Just a small nod.
A silent agreement.
This isn’t over.
It should have ended there.
But of course, it didn’t.
The equipment line. Quick steps. And like always—she was right in front of me.
“Hey, Thorne. Try lining up properly.”
She turned, one brow raised. “I’ve been standing here longer than you, Dawson.”
Still the same.
I stepped closer. She didn’t move. She never did.
Then a stupid move—pure reflex. I reached for her bag, she dodged, my foot caught her untied lace—
and the world dropped with us.
Mats. Impact.
And one second where we were too close.
Too close to argue. Too close to pretend.
I remembered her breath. Her eyes.
And one thing I never admitted—
I never really wanted to pull away.
“Shadow-1.”
Her voice cut through the memory, sharp and clean, dragging me back into the cockpit.
“Yeah, Atlas-1?”
“Keep your distance. I don’t need a shadow.”
A faint smile crossed my lips.
Still the same.
But not entirely.
There was something new there. Not just irritation. Not just competition.
Distance.
A wall.
And for some reason—
It made me want to get closer.
“Unfortunately,” I replied lightly, “that’s my primary assignment today.”
I adjusted my position smoothly, settling just behind and slightly below the Atlas. Perfect formation. Safe distance—
but close.
Always close enough.
“So you’ll have to get used to it, Thorne.”
No response.
I didn’t need one.
I could picture her—jaw tight, eyes forward, holding everything in like she always did.
But something was different now. Something I couldn’t see—but I could feel. Like pressure building before a storm.
I looked ahead at the Atlas.
Large. Steady.
Like her.
And for the first time, I stopped lying to myself.
This wasn’t just competition anymore. Not just history.
This was something else—something too real to ignore. Something that had always been there, waiting.
I took a slow breath, feeling my heartbeat just slightly faster than it should be.
The sky was still calm. The aircraft is steady. Everything is still perfect.
But inside me—
It wasn’t.
Amelia Thorne was back within my reach.
And this time, I had no intention of keeping my distance.
And that—
I already knew—
had always been my greatest mistake.
But maybe, for the first time…
I didn’t care.
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- Writer
