Page 134 of Viking

The memory stabs through my chest. She’d tried to act strong, told me she understood, but I saw it in her eyes—the hurt, the fear she wouldn’t let herself voice.

“Eagle Eye, this is Bishop. Ground status?” Townsend’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts, yanking me back to the moment.

Daniels’s response comes quickly. “Delta has breached the target structure. Resistance is heavier than expected, but they’re holding their own. Primary objective secured in T-minus three minutes. Stay sharp up there, still picking up movement on the outskirts.”

“Roger that,” Townsend says, his tone as steady as ever.

I force myself to focus, pulling my jet into a wide arc, my eyes glued to the ground. My HUD flashes with telemetry, but I barely register it. The weight of what’s at stake presses down on me.

Knowing the men down there have people waiting for them—wives, kids, families praying they make it back—makes me long for this mission to end.

Lila’s laugh echoes in the cockpit as if she were right here. I grit my teeth.

Movement near the compound catches my eye. A convoy of vehicles kicking up dust.

Reinforcements.

“Bishop, you see that?” I ask, already adjusting my course.

“Affirmative,” Townsend replies. “Looks like they’re trying to flank Delta. Engage at will.”

“Copy that. Taking a shot,” I growl, flipping the missile selector to air-to-ground. My targeting reticle locks on to the lead vehicle, and I don’t hesitate. The missile releases with a sharp hiss. The explosion lights up the ground, sending a shock wave rippling through the convoy.

“Nice shot,” Townsend says, his tone as calm as ever, even as he lines up his own target. His missile slams into the rear of the convoy, trapping the remaining vehicles in a fiery trap.

For a split second, I imagine Lila watching this, her wide eyes filled with the same mixture of awe and worry I’d seen before. What would she think of me taking lives to save others? Would she still look at me the same way?

“We have jackpot,” Daniels reports, his tone steadier now. “Delta’s clear. Compound secured. Mission success.”

A wave of relief crashes over me. My hands flex against the controls, the tension bleeding into my fingertips. It’s over, but the edge doesn’t fade.

“Raptor Flight, fall back to holding pattern,” Townsend orders. “We’re done here.”

I keep my eyes trained on my targeting display, watching the heat signatures of the Delta operators as they emerge from the ruins, their movements smooth and calculated. One of them raises a hand, signaling the all-clear. The image blurs slightly, and I realize it’s because my throat is tight and my eyes are filling.

As the two Black Hawks loaded with the operators disappear into the night, the comms go mostly quiet. The compound below is a ruin of fire and smoke, a stark reminder of the cost of every mission.

“Raptor Flight, job well done. RTB,” Townsend says, his voice carrying a note of pride. “Let’s bring them home.”

One by one, we peel away from the scene. The skies are empty now, but the memories of what happened will cling like smoke.

I grip the controls tighter.

Missions like this don’t end when the last bandit goes down. They stay with you.

In the stillness.

In the shadows.

In the nights when sleep won’t come.

My eyes scan the endless stretch of sky, but I’m not really seeing it. I’m still there, above the burning wreckage, watching as chaos unfolded beneath us.

I wonder what she’d think if she saw me now.

The Viking, they call me.

A machine in the air.