I watched as the military transport aircraft descended onto the runway, its massive frame cutting through the sky with thunderous force. My fingers curled tightly around the cold metal bar of the military patrol car as it sped alongside the tarmac, the cold wind lashing at my face.

Anticipation surged through my veins, sharp and electric, nearly painful in its intensity. I leaned forward, every muscle tense, ready to sprint the moment the vehicle slowed. I narrow my heavy-lidded eyes at the approaching plane.

Finally—after nearly nine months—I can keep her. My angel. My stardust. Yeah, I know—cheesy. But I got stupidly attached to that two-year-old hybrid.

We found her during a mission—our military base stumbled across an abandoned lab after an explosion. Dozens of experimental hybrids were discovered inside. Most didn’t survive. Except for her. She was locked in an old containment capsule. Alone. Asleep.

Since then, she’s been under government custody at a national energy lab—strict, sterile, and terrifying. Poor thing was so scared. And the first face she saw when she woke up… was mine. From that moment on, I couldn’t let her go. Protocol be damned. I had to have her.

It took endless protests, stacks of paperwork, grueling meetings—and just a bit of blood on my hands—to finally convince the government that I was capable of raising her. No, I don’t have children. No spouse. No family. But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn. She needs me. And truthfully… I need her.

Once I got the green light, they flew her out to Lawrence, to a new lab that had just opened. Safer. Quieter. But now—watching that transport plane descend, knowing she’s inside after all these months apart—I can finally see my baby girl again.

I don’t wait. The car hasn’t even come to a full stop before I leap out and sprint toward the massive transport plane, already grounded and still. I stumble a few times, but I don’t slow down.

Cold breath pours from my mouth with every ragged pant. The plane feels just as far as when I started—and technically, it still is. At this rate, I’m the one wasting time.

The hatch beneath the massive plane began to lower slowly, groaning as it touched down against the runway. A few soldiers emerged first—clearly part of the aircraft crew. Then, from the shadowy interior, a female officer stepped into the light, her gloved hands gripping the handle of a sleek black stroller she carefully pushed forward.

I slow down just a bit, catching my breath. My eyes softened, as they began to burn. I even let out an odd, seemingly vulnerable noise that caught me off guard. I push my feet, speeding toward the open hatch.