Page 101 of Viking

I barely hear him. “You didn’t think to tell me?” I snap, turning on him. “You let me walk in here and find out like this?”

“We were going to tell you,” Townsend says, voice tight. “But the team has to move forward. You know that.”

“Forward,” I echo, laughing without humor. “Right. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Wells holds up his hands, voice calm but steady. “Look, I didn’t know Captain Carter. I didn’t know—”

“No, you didn’t,” I cut him off again. “So don’t stand there and act like you understand what he meant to this team. Or to me.”

Dalton shifts beside him, tension flickering in his expression. “Viking, chill. Saint’s not the enemy here.”

I know that. But grief doesn’t give a damn about logic.

Wells doesn’t argue. Doesn’t defend himself. He just watches me, like he’s waiting for me to figure my own shit out.

I clench my fists, force a breath, and step back. “I need air.”

I turn on my heel and push out of the hangar, the cold air hitting me hard. I drag a hand down my face, trying to breathe through the chaos in my head.

Take care of the flight, Logan.

I lean against the side of the building, tipping my head back, staring up at the sky. The wind carries the faint scent of jet fuel, something that used to be comforting. Right now, it just makes it harder to breathe.

Footsteps approach. I don’t have to look to know who it is. “What do you want?” I ask, voice rougher than I mean it to be.

Wells stops a few feet away, giving me space. “I get it.”

I scoff. “Do you?”

His voice stays steady. “I do. I’ve lost people, too.”

Don’t let my ghost hang around.

I clench my teeth but say nothing.

“I’ll never be Carter,” he continues. “I’m not trying to be.”

I finally look at him, really look at him. There’s no arrogance in his expression, no cocky bravado. Just sincerity.

“I didn’t ask for this assignment,” he says. “I didn’t know about Carter. But I’m here now, and I’m not going to apologize for doing my job. Being a demo pilot is a damn honor.”

I suck in a breath, my anger still there but dulling at the edges. None of this is his fault. He’s just trying to do the job he was given. Same as me.

“I don’t like this,” I say finally.

Wells smirks. “That makes two of us.”

Something almost like a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, but I don’t let it win.

“Don’t fuck up, Saint.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, turning back toward the hangar.

I watch him go, the ache still lodged deep in my chest.

Ryan’s gone. That truth doesn’t get softer with time, it just settles in deeper. Some days it’s heavy enough to crush me. But not today.

Because I’m still here.