Page 100 of Viking

The office feels emptier after he’s gone, a stark reminder of the holes left behind. Holes I’m still trying to figure out how to fill. I sink into my chair, the familiar pain settling in. Wells may be here to take Ryan’s spot in the lineup, but no one will ever take his place.

Langley AFB

October 10, 2024

0845

Logan

The crisp autumn air bites at my face as I step onto the tarmac. It’s not cold enough for a jacket, but the wind whipping across the flight line carries enough of a chill to make me wish I’d grabbed one. My boots echo against the concrete as I walk toward the hangar, each step heavier than the last.

It feels different, being back here. Not in the obvious ways—I knew coming home would be an adjustment. I knew I’d have to walk onto this base again, knowing Ryan never would. I knew I’d have to look my team in the eye after months of being grounded, after months of clawing my way back to being mission-ready.

What I wasn’t ready for was the unease. The way my gut tightens at the thought of seeing her. Lila’s here somewhere. Maybe even in this hangar. I don’t think she knows I’m back and I have no idea how to handle that. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, that I have more important things to worry about, but my pulse betrays me, kicking up as I step inside.

The hangar is alive with movement—airmen checking over jets, voices bouncing off steel walls, the thrum of machinery filling the space. The familiarity of it all should settle something in me.

It doesn’t.

There’s no sign of Lila.

Townsend texted me this morning: Briefing at 0900. Don’t be late.

No heads-up, no details. Classic Townsend. I should be focusing on the upcoming demo, on getting back into a rhythm after months overseas, but there’s a weight in my chest I can’t shake. Maybe it’s because I’m expected to fly demonstrations without Ryan. Maybe it’s because I know that when I walk into the briefing, everything will be different.

And then I see him.

He’s tall—maybe an inch or two taller than me, six-two, maybe six-three. Broad shoulders fill out his flight suit, dark blond hair cut just within regulation. He’s standing with Dalton and Townsend, laughing at something one of them said.

His grin is easy, his posture relaxed.

Like he belongs here.

My jaw tightens as I walk up, pushing my sleeves up my forearms, trying to ignore the tension winding through me. Townsend spots me first, his expression shifting from casual to careful.

“James,” he says, like he’s bracing for impact.

“Who’s this?” I ask, my voice even, but clipped.

The guy steps forward, extending a hand. “Captain Wells Bennett,” he says, voice smooth, self-assured. “Saint. Just transferred from Elmendorf.”

I glance at his hand, hesitating, and then taking it. “Transferred to do what, exactly?”

Townsend clears his throat, stepping in before Wells can answer. “Saint’s joining the demo team. He’ll be flying Ryan’s position.”

The words land like a punch to my ribs.

I knew someone would take his spot eventually. I knew it wasn’t realistic to think they’d leave it empty. But hearing it out loud? Seeing the guy they picked standing right in front of me?

My stomach twists.

“You’re replacing Ryan,” I say, my voice low.

Wells’s easy confidence falters. “I’m not—”

“You are,” I cut him off, sharper than I should. “That’s what this is. You’re taking his slot like he’s just…just some empty seat to fill.”

Townsend exhales, stepping in. “James, that’s enough.”