Chapter 2

The next second, a piercing alarm sent Lance springing to his feet.

It was the flight line emergency alarm.

Grounded for the past year, Lance had been assigned to maintain the fighter jets on the ground.

He rushed outside.

Not far from the hangar, Lance's heart sank at the sight that greeted him.

Andre was standing beside the fighter jet Lance had spent five years protecting, and in his hand was a detonator.

It was a last-resort measure, used only when a fighter jet faced an uncontrollable threat.

"Put that down!" Lance shouted.

Andre jumped in fright. "Oh, it's you. I was just carrying out a routine inspection of the fighter jet."

"I said put down the detonator." Lance approached him slowly, his voice cold and resolute. "That's not a toy."

But Andre suddenly shuddered as though he had been terribly frightened, then slammed his hand down on the device.

"No!"

Lance lunged forward, but he was a fraction of a second too late.

A deafening explosion erupted, and the shock wave hurled Lance to the ground. Yet, he couldn't even feel the pain.

All he could do was stare in horror as the fighter jet that had been his companion for five years twisted and tore itself apart in the flames.

Then, he lost consciousness.

In the medical room, Lance sat in a daze as the doctor, Jerome Wright, tended to his scrapes.

He closed his eyes, but all he could see was the towering wall of flames.

Every day and night over the past five years, every takeoff and landing, and every time he'd run his hand over the fuselage had all been reduced to ashes in that explosion.

The door opened, and Elvira walked in. Andre followed close behind with a look of disdain in his eyes.

"It was Lance who suddenly rushed out and startled me," Andre said nonchalantly. "Besides, I thought it was just an ordinary switch. I didn't know it was a detonator."

"You didn't know? Didn't I tell you?" Lance laughed bitterly. "Not to mention, everyone is required to learn to identify all emergency equipment on their very first day at the base, yet you're telling me you didn't know?"

Andre turned to Elvira for help.

Her gaze moved between the two men before finally settling on Lance.

"Regardless of what happened, the result is that the fighter jet has been destroyed. Every aircraft at the base is public property, and you are responsible for failing in your supervisory duties."

Lance froze.

He stared at Elvira, the woman he had loved and pursued for ten years and was about to marry.

Suddenly, she seemed like a complete stranger to him.

Elvira's tone was strictly official. "According to regulations, you will be confined for three days for disciplinary reflection."

Inside the confinement room, Lance trembled uncontrollably as his claustrophobia took hold.

Ten years ago, he had been held captive in a dark warehouse for 13 days, with nothing but the sounds of explosions echoing around him.

Then, out of nowhere, a woman descended through the smoke.

"Don't be afraid. I'll take you home."

It was Elvira. She was young, bold, and utterly fearless.

Before Lance was loaded into the ambulance, Elvira had placed a crystal pendant into his hand.

"Here, this is for you. If you ever feel afraid again, just look at it. Remember, there will always be someone who comes for you."

Lance took a deep breath and buried his face in his arms. It felt as though someone had stabbed straight through his heart, leaving nothing but pain with every contraction.

He had no idea how much time passed before the door to the confinement room finally opened.

Elvira stood in the doorway, her expression cold and composed.

"There's an emergency mission."

Lance looked up at her expressionlessly.

He couldn't tell whether his heart had simply died or whether the pain had become so unbearable that he could no longer feel anything.

"Edith Crawford, the scientist, requires an urgent escort." When Elvira got a clear look at Lance, her brows furrowed slightly. And she even paused before continuing, "The mission will affect your final evaluation. You know what that means."