Chapter 16
Naval Academy Dock, Annapolis, Maryland
Than didn’t stand where Fly had put him because he was steady. He stood there because he was frozen.
The shock hadn’t even begun to metabolize.
It had only seemed like a few minutes ago, he had been holding her, planning a life, navigating the logistics of separation with the quiet certainty that they would bridge the distance.
He had told her he loved her. She had said it back.
The sound of her voice still rang in his ears, warm and sure, drowning out the wind and the slap of water against the hull.
He was a naval officer in the making, trained for emergencies, drilled in crisis response.
He knew the protocol. He knew he should be scanning the horizon, securing gear, helping Fly manage the boat.
His body refused. The tether snapping was the only thing his mind would play, over and over. That single, final sound.
He stared at the water, eyes fixed and unblinking, but he wasn’t seeing the chop or the darkening swell. He was seeing the empty space where she had been. The deck still felt like her. The air held the faint impression of her presence, as if she had only just stepped out of reach.
His hands were locked on the rail, knuckles white, tendons standing out along his forearms. He wasn’t shaking. He was vibrating, a frequency so tight it felt like it might split him apart. The calm that defined him was gone, replaced by a hollow, ringing void.
He should have grabbed her. He had lunged, but not fast enough. Not close enough. Training had failed him. Instinct had failed him. The water had taken her anyway.
When Fly called for the search, Than didn’t move.
He couldn’t. His legs felt fused to the deck.
It wasn’t insubordination. It was a complete system failure.
His mind rejected what it had seen, replaying the last seconds again and again, trying to force a different ending where his hand closed around hers.
“Than.”
Fly’s voice cut through the wind.
Than didn’t respond. He kept staring at the dark, indifferent water, breath coming in short, sharp pulls that didn’t seem to reach his lungs.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a quieter voice kept insisting that it wasn’t over.
People survived worse. Someone could find her.
She could reach shore. Boats were still scattered across the bay.
But every instinct he had learned from a lifetime near water was telling him something else.
The storm had come too fast, waves were too big, and the search had already stretched too wide.
Than kept staring anyway, as if the next swell might lift her out of the gray water and prove that voice wrong.
The space opening inside his chest was vast and echoing, and he had no idea how to stand inside it.
Hands found him.
He didn’t know whose at first. Someone peeled his fingers from the rail one by one, gentle but firm, like they’d done this before. Another hand came to his elbow, steering him without asking. Than went because resistance would have required decision, and he had none left.
Valor lurched hard beneath them as a swell rolled through the marina, the hull knocking once against the fenders before settling again.
The rain came down harder as Valor eased alongside the dock, cold needles driving through his soaked clothes. The storm was fully awake now. Wind tore at everything loose. Water hammered the bay like it was trying to erase what had happened.
“Easy,” someone said near his ear.
A towel was pressed into his chest. Then another. He barely registered the heat when it followed, a blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, heavy and suffocating. His teeth didn’t chatter. His body didn’t react at all.
They guided him inside.
The building smelled like disinfectant and old coffee.
The kind of place meant to stabilize, not comfort.
Steam rose from his sleeves and dripped onto the floor.
Someone took his name. Someone else checked his pupils.
He answered when spoken to because the questions were simple and the answers didn’t require thought.
Yes. No. I’m not hurt.
They sat him in a chair with the others, close enough that knees touched, blankets overlapping.
Bridge curled inward, arms wrapped tight around herself, eyes red but still searching the room like she expected the water to follow them inside.
Joss paced once, then stopped when an officer told him to sit.
He stared at the floor like it had personally betrayed him.
Than kept his eyes forward.
A mug was placed in his hands. Something hot. Sweet. He held it because it was given to him, not because he wanted it. The warmth seeped into his palms, crawled up his arms, and stopped at his chest like it had hit a wall.
Fly was there.
Than didn’t look at him at first, but he felt him the way he always did, a steady presence just off his shoulder. When he finally turned his head, Fly was standing, answering questions in a low, even voice. Calm. Controlled. The same voice that had cut through the wind.
Than watched his mouth move and couldn’t hear the words.
There was an empty space in the room. Not a chair. Something larger. A shape that should have been filled and wasn’t. Than’s eyes kept sliding back to it without his permission.
Time lost its structure.
Someone said the Coast Guard had suspended active search due to conditions. The words passed through the room like weather, registered without landing. Outside, wind rattled the windows and rain hammered the roof in relentless sheets. No one cried. No one spoke.
Than nodded when someone touched his shoulder again.
He didn’t know what they expected from him. Tears. Anger. Sound. He had none of it to give. Everything he was had gone still, coiled tight around the last image of Mei standing on the deck, alive, looking at him like the world made sense.
The blanket slipped a little. He didn’t adjust it as thunder rolled somewhere out over the bay.
He sat there, breathing shallow, eyes fixed ahead, waiting for something to change the fact that she wasn’t coming through the door.
Nothing did.
The room stayed quiet after the words settled.
Suspended active search.
Fly felt them land the same way he felt everything else now. Logged. Stored. Contained. He stood where he could see all of them at once, crew gathered close, blankets and damp hair and hollow eyes. Than hadn’t moved an inch. Fly clocked that and filed it away too.
An officer stepped in and in a low, careful voice, said, “Midshipman Gallagher.”
Fly nodded once and followed him out.
The corridor smelled like rain and bleach. Boots squeaked on tile. Somewhere deeper in the building, someone was on a phone, voice tight and urgent.
Hollis was pacing when Fly reached the end of the hall.
He looked dry now. Jacket off. Hair slicked back like it always was when he wanted to look composed. His face was flushed, eyes bright with a kind of agitation Fly recognized instantly.
“This is on you,” Hollis said, the moment Fly stopped walking.
No preamble. No pause. “You disobeyed a direct order in the middle of a sanctioned race.” Fly didn’t answer.
“You altered course,” Hollis pressed, stepping closer, invading Fly's space.
“You exposed the boat. You created the instability. If you had held your line—”
“Holding that line would have put us beam-on to the swell,” Fly said quietly. It cut anyway. “That wasn’t a risk, sir. It was a death sentence.”
Hollis scoffed, a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “You think I won’t say it? You think I won’t put it on the record? You’re a student, Gallagher. You don’t get to decide when orders stop mattering.”
“I decide when the safety of my crew is on the line,” Fly said, his voice dropping, colder than the sea air. “I was the skipper, and she’s dead.” He stepped closer. “That should have been your priority, sir.”
The words fell between them, heavy and final.
Hollis opened his mouth, then closed it again. For a second, something like uncertainty flickered across his face. Then it hardened into a mask of defensiveness. “You don’t use her to justify insubordination. I will have your career for this.”
Fly didn’t step back. “I’m not justifying anything.” He held Hollis’s gaze. “I’m accounting for it.”
Silence stretched. The storm rattled the windows at the far end of the hall. An officer cleared his throat nearby.
“Lieutenant Hollis, we’ll need you in Conference B.”
Hollis looked past Fly, jaw set. “The board will hear my side of this. You won’t be the only one explaining things.”
Fly nodded once. “We’ll each get our say.”
Hollis narrowed his eyes and walked away without another word, his stride stiff and aggressive. Fly stood there a moment longer, breathing steadily, shoulders squared, letting the weight settle where it belonged. Then he turned and went back to the room.
The crew looked up when he entered. Not all of them. Than didn’t move. But Bridge did. Joss did. Their eyes went to Fly automatically, like gravity hadn’t changed.
Fly took his place with them. No speech. No reassurance he couldn’t give.
He just stayed.
Outside, the storm kept pounding the bay.
Inside, nothing moved at all.
Time passed. Than had no idea how much. Whatever was in his cup had gone cold, yet he still held it without taking a sip. He set it down on a small table.
A door opened. The room went quiet in that way that meant someone important was about to speak.
Than felt it before he heard it. A shift. Air tightening. Bodies orienting without sound. He was still wrapped in a blanket that smelled like bleach and heat, his hands clasped together between his knees because if he let them go, he didn’t know what they might do.
An officer stepped in, rain still clinging to the shoulders of his jacket. He didn’t look at anyone right away.
“Midshipmen,” he said, voice steady, practiced. “The Coast Guard has recovered a body.”