Page 48 of Soaring and Steadfast

Ten agonizing, empty days, and Louis hated every second of it. The hollow ache inside him gnawed relentlessly, an unbearable craving for Lila’s touch, for the simple warmth of her hand in his. It felt like withdrawal, like a deep-seated addiction, and nothing—not even the rush of high-speed maneuvers before they pulled back into Mayport—could dull the void.

The rhythmic hum of the carrier deck beneath him, the constant controlled chaos of launching and landing jets, should have been enough to distract him. But his mind was miles away, stuck in that space where longing and frustration twisted like a vice around his chest.

He was in his jet, strapped in, waiting for his turn. His fingers flexed restlessly over the controls, muscles coiled with the familiar anticipation of takeoff. Tic-Tak was next in line, preparing to launch, while Ohio was coming in for a landing.

Louis watched as Tic-Tak give the signal as his jet powered up and shot forward, racing off the edge of the ship with a staggering amount of power. The moment the wheels left the ship, it was up to you. The plane would sag slightly, bank left, and then they were on their own. Typical Tic-Tak—never one to follow protocol. Louis huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he waited for his own turn, listening to the chatter from the tower.

He watched the sky captain taxi him forward to where the shooters were and would give him the signal when he was ready. The lines were across the deck, and he listened, hearingthe tower relaying information to him. They were in a holding pattern, and he knew Ohio was coming.

Everything was routine.

Until it wasn’t.

The third wire—the safest catch, the one theyalwaysaimed for...Ohio missed, and the fourth cable on the deck, the fourth arresting cable to stop the plane and slow it, snapped.

Itsnapped.

The thick metal wire lashed backward with terrifying force, slicing through the air like a whip. The sound was deafening—a high-pitched, metallic shriek that cut through the hum of engines. Louis barely had time to react before it slammed against his jet with a violentcrack, shattering his landing gear strut.

His planelurched forward, the nose dipping as his stomach twisted with dread. His hands flew to the controls, instincts kicking in, fingers moving in a blur to shut everything down. But his attention wasjerked away—because Ohio’s jet was in trouble.

Ohio should have been able topull up. He should have been able to gun the throttle andgo around again. But his jet—hisentire darn jet—was veeringsideways, completely out of control.

Straight off the edge of the carrier.

And then it wasgone.

Louis’s breath lodged in his throat, a strangled sound of purehorrorescaping his lips before he could stop it.

“NOOOOO!”His scream tore from his chest, raw and panicked, as his bodyfought againstthe restraints. He fumbled desperately with his buckles, hands shaking, mind spiraling as adrenaline dumped into his system. His canopy was still sealed—he needed to get out—he needed to get outnow.

Shouts erupted all around him. Deck crew rushed into action. Fire suppression teams scrambled, medical personnelwere already on standby, and afrenzy of movementovertook the flight deck.

But Louis didn’t care about the protocols, didn’t care about anything but the horrifying truthburningin his mind—Ohio was in the water.

His body moved on pure instinct. He was out of the cockpit, wavingwildlyfor the ladder, but he wasn’t waiting—his bootshit the metal hardas he jumped down, his only thought torun.

Orion was already ahead of him, sprinting toward the edge of the ship, and Louis pushed himself harder, his pulse hammering so loudly he could barely hear the frantic voices shouting orders.

Sailors and pilots were being restrained, held back fromdoing exactly what Louis wanted to do—jump in after Ohio. Orion and Shellac were fighting against the hands gripping them, their faces twisted in anguish.

And then—Moonbeam jumped.

Jumping from the flight deck was prohibited, so even if Moonbeam was okay – he was going to be in big trouble. A collectivegasprippled across the deck as his body plummeted thirty to forty feet to the water below. The impact alone couldshatter bones, couldknock him unconscious, couldkill him—but none of that had stopped him.

It should have.

It should have stoppedall of them—but it didn’t.

Louis skidded to a halt at the very edge, his breath ragged, his hands gripping the railingso hard his knuckles turned white. His eyesscanned desperately, darting across the vast, churning ocean.

No wreckage.

No parachute.

No sign of Ohio.

Voices roared around him, but they were justnoise, meaningless, hollow.

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