Knox strolls over, his helmet under his arm and a knowing smirk on his face. “What’d you think?” he asks, nodding toward the group as they gather by the planes.
“He’s got skill,” I reply, keeping my tone even. “But he needs to clean up those transitions and learn to fly with the unit, not ahead of it.”
Knox chuckles, leaning closer. “And how about the landing? Pretty smooth, huh?”
I shoot him a look, but the corner of my mouth twitches. “Let’s just say he’s going to bring in plenty of spectators for reasons more than his flying.”
Knox laughs, slapping my shoulder as he walks off to debrief the team.
I shake my head and tuck my notes under my arm as I walk toward the group right behind Knox. Time to remind Ash Carr that talent only gets you so far—and that I’m not here to swoon over him. I am here to make him great.
The jet’s canopy hisses as it opens, and climbing out, I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. The first pass wasn’t perfect—I know that—but it wasn’t bad either. Two transitions could’ve been tighter, sure, but I nailed the last maneuver, and I am not about to let a few rough spots get in my head.
Knox is already waiting, leaning casually against the side of a nearby truck with his arms crossed. His simple grin is firmly in place, like he always knows something the rest of us don’t. I jog over to him, pulling off my helmet and running a hand through my hair.
“Well?” I ask, keeping my tone casual. “What d’you think?”
Knox shrugs, pushing off the truck. “You’ve got moves, Dragon. No one’s doubting that.”
“But?”
He tilts his head toward the runway. “But I’m not the one you need to impress.”
I follow his gaze and feel my stomach do something weird—like a low flip—when I see her.
Commander Maddox is walking toward us, her clipboard tucked under one arm, her stride confident and deliberate.She isn’t rushing, but something about the way she moves commands attention. The sunlight illuminates the blonde highlights in her chocolate hair, and she fixes a sharp, assessing gaze on me as if already planning her critique.
I stand up straighter without even meaning to, pulling myself together as I wait for her to close the distance.
“Carr,” she says when she reaches us, her tone brisk but not unkind. “Decent work out there.”
“Thanks, Commander.” I keep my expression neutral.
“But,” she continues, raising a single eyebrow, “we’re not aiming for decent. You had some powerful moments—your control in the break turn was solid, and your alignment on the last pass was clean.”
I feel a flicker of pride, but it is short-lived.
“However,” she continues, fixing me with a look that could cut steel, “your spacing in the diamond formation was inconsistent. Twice, you overcorrected, which threw off the entire line. And on the initial pull-up, you were half a beat late. Timing matters, Carr. This isn’t a solo performance; it’s a team.”
I clench my jaw, biting back the instinct to defend myself. She isn’t wrong about any of it, and the worst part is that I felt those moments in the air too.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, forcing myself to meet her gaze.
Her expression softens slightly, not much, but enough to notice. “You’ve got the raw talent, Dragon. Now you just need to learn how to use it for the good of the team.”
She turns to Knox, gives him a nod, and then walks off toward the other instructors, leaving me standing there.
I exhale, running a hand down my face. “Well, that was fun. Did no one else have issues with the run, or just me?” I mutter.
Knox claps me on the shoulder, grinning like he is thoroughly enjoying himself. “Welcome to the Angels, Carr. It’s only gonna get tougher from here.”
By the time Amelia calls it a day, my legs are sore, my shoulders ache, and my pride? Yeah, that has taken the biggest hit. We ran the routine four more times, each pass more grueling than the last, with Commander Maddox barking out corrections like a damn drill sergeant in my ear.
“Spacing, Carr!” she shouted over the comms. “Get it together, or you’ll take out half the line.”
I gritted my teeth and pushed through, trying to focus on the timing, the angles, and not the way her voice had this irritating mix of authority and… something else. By the time we landed, I felt drained. And when she told us to be back at the airfield at 0600 sharp, there wasn’t a single person who dared complain.
Looking over at Amelia now, I know I need to say one thing before heading out for the day.
