The man nodded.
Ethan turned back.
Victoria’s breathing had changed.
Shallower now.
Her eyes fluttered.
“Victoria?”
No response.
“Victoria.”
Her body went limp.
Ethan removed the mask and checked her pulse.
His expression changed instantly.
“Diane, AED.”
“What?”
“Defibrillator. Now.”
She froze.
“Is she—”
“Diane.”
Something in Ethan’s voice snapped her into motion.
She pulled the automated external defibrillator from the kit.
Ethan lowered Victoria flat.
“No pulse.”
The cabin seemed to inhale collectively.
Somebody whispered, “Oh my God.”
Ethan placed the heel of one hand over Victoria’s sternum, locked the other hand over it, and began compressions.
One.
Two.
Three.
His shoulders moved with controlled force.
No hesitation.
No panic.
Eleven years vanished.
The factory disappeared.
The bills disappeared.
The furnace.
The tuition.
The tiny house.
Everything fell away until Ethan Carter was somewhere he had promised himself he would never be again.
A place where seconds mattered.
A place where one wrong decision could follow you forever.
“Pads,” he said.
Diane tore open the package.
Ethan helped position
them.
The machine began analyzing.
“Everyone clear.”
His hands lifted.
The AED spoke.
“Shock advised.”
Diane’s face drained of color.
Ethan looked around.
“Clear.”
He pressed the button.
Victoria’s body jolted.
Nothing.
Ethan immediately resumed compressions.
“Come on.”
His voice was quieter now.
“Come on, Victoria.”
Diane watched him.
There was something strange about the way he said it.
Not desperation.
Recognition.
As though this moment had happened before.
As though he had once knelt beside someone else and begged a heart to restart.
“Ethan…”
He heard Mia’s voice.
His head turned.
She stood at the edge of the business-class curtain.
Eight years old.
Barely four feet tall.
Captain the rabbit crushed against her chest.
Her face was white.
“Dad?”
Ethan’s heart cracked.
“Mia, sweetheart, go back.”
“Is she dying?”
He couldn’t lie to her.
Not about this.
“I’m trying to help her.”
Mia’s eyes filled.
