Richard looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time in his life, like the woman he’d insulted all morning had suddenly turned into someone else entirely. Someone dangerous, someone powerful, someone he’d severely underestimated. I didn’t say a word. I simply gave the pilot a small nod, permission to continue. He rushed back into the cockpit and within moments the engines roared to life. The F-22s began to taxi in perfect formation, one on either side of our jet.
Richard stumbled toward me, fingers pointing accusingly, fighting to regain control of the moment.
“What? What exactly are you?”
he demanded. It was the question everyone eventually asked. Some whispered it, some feared it, some demanded it the way Richard did, like they were entitled to an answer. I kept my voice steady.
“It’s just a clearance status.”
“That’s not an answer,”
he snapped.
“It’s the one you’re going to get right now.”
He opened his mouth, probably to bark another insult, but the jet lurched as we began rolling, and his body slammed gracelessly into the nearest chair. I gently braced myself with the doorway, muscle memory guiding the movement. As we lifted off the runway, the F-22s stayed perfectly locked beside us, slicing upward in a synchronized arc. Small specks of sunlight glinted off their silver wings. Richard stared at them like he’d fallen into someone else’s life.
“What do they want with you?”
he muttered.
“You’re just careful,”
I said softly.
“Not as a threat, as a reminder.”
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