The sky over the Atlantic was quiet again.
Months had passed since Flight 417 landed safely, yet for Mara Dalton, silence had never felt the same. It was no longer peaceful—it was heavy, filled with echoes only she could hear.
At a remote airbase far from the noise of the world, Mara stood alone beside the runway, watching a transport aircraft disappear into the horizon. The engines faded, but her eyes remained fixed on the empty sky long after it was gone.
Some things don’t leave you.
They just… wait.
Her uniform felt familiar again, but not comforting. Every mission she took now carried a different weight. It wasn’t about orders or duty anymore. It was about faces—300 strangers who never knew how close they came to disappearing.
And one voice she wished she had never heard again.
Victor Klov.
They had confirmed it weeks ago. The aircraft that pursued Flight 417 had vanished after the intercept. No crash. No signal. No trace.
