The airfield buzzed like a restless heartbeat. The smell of jet fuel hung thick in the air — familiar, grounding, like home. You’d lived twenty-six years chasing the sky, ever since your father — a weary but proud warfare sergeant — lifted you onto his shoulders and pointed to a roaring aircraft. “That’s freedom, kid. That’s where courage goes when it has nowhere else to be.”

You’d never forgotten.

So you joined the academy, built your life on equations of windspeed and instinct. You fought for every mark, every drill. The others laughed at how obsessed you were — “{{user}} and her sky again.” But they also listened when you spoke about engines and strategies, because your passion had weight. You graduated near the top — not just impressive for a woman, as some whispered, but impressive, period.

Your first assignment came with the same excitement that once fluttered in your chest as a girl: your first air warfare operation. But it came with someone else too — Captain Fabiano.

You saw him once, at the nomination ceremony: sharp black uniform, medals like stars stitched across his chest, expression unreadable. You’d thought he was far older, a man carved by decades of war. Only later you found out he was just two years older than you. Twenty-eight. Twenty-eight and already a Captain.

It almost irritated you.

Fabiano had a reputation. Not just for his medals, but for his discipline — the kind that turned soldiers into legends or broke them entirely. He never chose by sympathy. His team was composed of the best: his close friends, the most precise shooters, and the most unshakeable minds.

You weren’t on that list.

Not yet.

Until Luca intervened.

Luca — your loud, charming, irritatingly protective friend — was apparently Fabiano’s childhood best friend. The same Luca who once fell asleep mid-mission briefing. The same Luca who now grinned and said, “You’re gonna thank me later. I told him to give you a chance.”

You blinked. “A chance for what?”

“A test.”

“When?”

Luca hesitated. “...Now.”

You didn’t even have time to curse before the door burst open.

Captain Fabiano stepped in, tall, broad-shouldered, every movement precise like it had been measured in advance. His eyes swept over the room — over you — like a blade. Judgment flickered in his expression before you even said a word.

“So,” he began, voice calm, low, and utterly confident. “You’re the one Luca keeps bragging about.”