The Aeronauts True Story Novels & Stories

VICTOR I shuffled in my seat, feeling my ass go numb after the third hour of not moving. Dea was on that God damned plane alone with no one to protect her. I tried my utmost best to get onto the same flight as her but to no avail. The very next flight which left after her was the one I knew I had to book. "Stop moving, big man. I'm trying to sleep over here," Saint grumbled, peaking an eye open at me.

The crumpled paper he had just handed Elliott was the paper he had found according to Aeron's last will. On the paper was Aeron's handwriting stating his suspicions that Aramis might have been involved in the accident that killed Adrianus and Willona fifteen years old. Aeron also wrote about his fear and never had any bad intentions towards Adrianus. "I still haven't confirmed the truth because it happened fifteen years ago. So my men need time to check it double," Alex replied. "Still, it doesn't change what Uncle Aeron has been through." Alex gave Elliott a sharp look. There was anger flashing in his deep blue eyes.

The men looked at him in amazement, as this was not a public space for visitors. One of the men was Aaron, who looked at him curiously, then approached. It was undeniable that the fear of receiving bad news had already grabbed his heart at that moment. Aaron had made a short trip between two parts of the city to test a new device on his aircraft. Flying was what he liked, and when he saw his wife leave him in the most cutting way possible, he couldn't think of anything other than occupying his thoughts. With a handshake, Aaron and Joe, the pilot, said goodbye. He walked over to Anastasia quickly, seeing that her face didn't carry the best of expressions.

“Aeron.” His brow furrowed. “Do we know each other.” A simple question. A knife dressed as a whisper. Kieran slid closer, already analyzing. Kael’s focus sharpened to something dangerous. Aeron gave me a slow once-over, hesitant, not unkind. Searching for a memory that wouldn’t come. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had an accident six months ago. A shuttle crash. Medics say I lost a lot of personal history. I’m still piecing things together.”

“No. I would have gladly kicked that bastard, his son, and all those ranked cowards to fight against the General themselves. And I wouldn't have shared a single tear watching their dead bodies.” He chuckled. “Now we're getting somewhere. So you want to save your sister... and maybe a few others.” I blinked, confused, but nodded. “Well, yes.” He grinned then. “That's doable.” “How?” My confusion rose. Aeron chuckled and scratched his head. “You know that I used to be a rogue, right? Well… I used to know a lot of smugglers who moved in and out of the packs' territories. I know the secret tunnels built around the Eastern Valley Pack. I could get you into Hilalville's center without anyone notic

Flashes of memories assault me—Aeron's wounds closing faster than natural, the way he got perfectly strong even after returning in a very bad shape. I am beginning to see reason with Kellan, even as much as every fiber of my being screams against it. The cell feels smaller now, the air heavier, pressing down on my chest. Kellan adds in a near whisper, leaning slightly closer, "Aeron lied to you all along. He kept a vital part of his history from you. The entire Nightbane has been tricked by him also, for he is a terrible liar." He pauses, his eyes searching mine with something that looks like genuine sorrow. "That was the exact way he separated us when we were in...love."

Aeron It all unfolded swiftly. One moment, we were navigating the road toward Blizzard City, just minutes from the city's main gate. Suddenly, an intense force jolted us off the road, launching our vehicle into the air. The subsequent crash was abrupt and severe, leaving no room for panic, even though time seemed to warp in the midst of the chaos. The true sense of alarm only set in after the confusion subsided, and our car collided with the ground. There was no luxury of time for contemplation.