“They invited ‘Class Loser’ to the 10th anniversary of the high school graduation to make fun of it —

“They tried to hit me with a contract,” she said. “Suspicious.”

He sighed. “They’re targeting decorated pilots. You’re not the first.”

“But I can be the one to object,” Elara said.

Rourke smiled. “That’s why you keep flying.”

When the night ended, Elara went outside again.

Apache stood on the lawn, illuminated by the estate lights, powerful and awe-inspiring—the opposite of the fragile girl in the yearbook photo.

Her crew was waiting for her. One of them asked, “Ready, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she replied, getting in. “We’re going home.”

The Apache soared into the sky, its rotor blast flattening the grass beneath.

The guests watched in awe as the plane rose into the air, Elara’s silhouette clearly visible in the soft glow of the cabin lights.

She didn’t leave in anger. She left in triumph.

Not because she had proven them wrong—but because she had proven herself long before that evening.

Her past no longer defined her. Her future was her own.

Now, one real question remained: where would Lieutenant Commander Elara Whitmore’s courage take her next?