A trident. A dagger. A set of wings. And beneath it: “Caldwell—NSW.” A Navy SEAL insignia.
A man exiting the cockpit froze mid-step. Captain Jonathan Markell, the pilot. He stared. Blinked. Then whispered, “Ma’am… where did you earn that?”
Rhea straightened. “Fifteen years in special warfare.”
The pilot inhaled sharply—as if recognizing a ghost from a world most civilians never saw. “Who moved you out of First Class?” he asked, voice tightening.
But before she could answer, he lifted his radio. “Gate control, hold boarding. We have a situation.”
Rhea felt every head turning. Every whisper gathering. Why was the pilot intervening? What did he know about her past—and why did he look afraid?
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