Page 50 of Soaring and Steadfast

Don’t let him be dead.

Divers had already plunged into the dark abyss below, their bodies slicing through the water like knives. The search was fully underway, but Louis barely heard the shouted commands or the thunderous whir of helicopters lifting off to scour the sea.

Because this wasn’t just a search anymore.

It was a recovery.

A salvage operation.

His stomach churned violently as the unthinkable settled in. They weren’t just looking for Ohio. They were looking forhis body. The government wouldn’t leave a billion-dollar jet at the bottom of the ocean, and they sure as heck wouldn’t leave one of their own down there, either.

Louis swallowed hard, bile rising as his mind conjured memories of Ohio—grinning recklessly in the cockpit, cracking jokes at ungodly hours, his presence a constant, electric force that filled every room he walked into.

And now, just like that, he wasgone?

No. No, he was a swimmer. Better than me. If he got free of the canopy, if he kept his wits, if he could just?—

A commotion near the railing jerked him out of his thoughts.

Shouts. A sudden, frantic scramble of movement.

Louis’s breath hitched as he saw them.

The divers.

And between them—Ohio.

A limp, lifeless body floating against the rolling waves.

Louis surged forward, his fingers digging into the railing so hard they ached. Ohio’s flight gear was still intact, the dark fabric soaked and clinging to his frame, but his helmet was gone, revealing a face far too pale, too still.

His chest didn’t rise.

Didn’t fall.

Didn’t move.

Louis’s heart slammed against his ribs as someone screamed, “Everyone get back! Get back now!”

The divers secured the line, hauling Ohio’s unmoving form from the water. His body swayed, dripping, lifeless. A hollow, ice-cold horror wrapped itself around Louis’s spine, squeezing until he could barely breathe.

Then—

A cough.

A sharp, ragged gasp.

Ohio’s body jerked.

Louis’s knees nearly buckled as relief crashed into him, vicious and all-consuming. He clamped a hand over his mouth, choking back a sob as the impossible became real. He was overwhelmed with emotion, terror, fear for himself, fear for Lila. If she heard about it on the news would she think it was him? He was so scared, so full of emotion right now, and so darn grateful that they weren’t dragging Ohio’s body from the water.

Ohio was alive.

Louis sat stiffly on the edge of a metal bench. His fingers clenched together so tightly his knuckles were white. The air in the ready room was thick, suffocating. It smelled of sweat, jet fuel, and the lingering traces of saltwater still clinging to his flight suit. Around him, murmurs of low voices blended with the distant hum of the ship’s operations, but none of it mattered. His eyes were locked on the row of computers, each one occupied, their screens casting a cold, sterile glow over the tense faces of men trying to reach their own people—wives, girlfriends, parents—anyone who needed to know they were alive.

His phone was useless out here. The open ocean swallowed every bar of service, leaving him stranded in silence. He had tried to text her—just two simple words. I’m okay. But the message hadn’t gone through. Instead, a red bubble had popped up, mocking him.No Service.

His chest felt tight like a vise was squeezing around his ribs. Every second that passed was another second Lila spent not knowing. She’d be worried sick. Terrified. He knew the way her mind worked—the way panic took root and refused to let go.

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