The stealth transport touched down on the Academy tarmac just as the sun began to dip below the jagged tree line of the Pacific Northwest. The ramp lowered, and the crisp, freezing air flooded the cabin, smelling of pine needles, damp earth, and the faint, metallic tang of ozone.
I stood at the edge of the ramp, my left arm resting heavily in a specialized carbon-fiber sling. The neuro-blockers from Geneva had worn off during the flight, leaving behind a deep, throbbing ache in my shoulder and a frustrating, pins-and-needles numbness in my left fingers. Every time the transport shifted, the nerve damage flared, sending a spike of electricity down to my fingertips.
Kade stepped up beside me. He didn't offer to carry me; he knew I would refuse. Instead, his right hand wrapped securely arou
