Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
A single plane sits at the end of the tarmac, engine idling.
My breath catches. “We’re flying?” I ask.
Sin’s answer is simple. “Yes.”
“We’re moving again,” I say, and my voice tips toward disbelief. “We just got here. We just handed over my phone. We just…”
He pulls up near the plane and kills the engine. “We just confirmed you’re being monitored. Which means we don’t stay put.”
I turn in my seat. “This feels like a lot.”
“It is.”
He gets out, walks around, and opens my door. The cold night air hits my face, sharp and clean. I step down, and my feet crunch on the gravel. The plane’s prop wash pushes at my hair.
A man stands near the aircraft, headset on, posture relaxed. Another Salt & Steel operator. He nods at Sin with the casual confidence of people who do dangerous things before breakfast.
Sin doesn’t linger. He guides me toward the plane with a light touch at my back. My skin sparks where his palm rests, and I hate that too, because my body’s a traitor.
We climb into the cabin. It’s smaller than the jet from earlier, but comfortable. Two rows of seats, leather, clean lines. A faint scent of fuel mixed with something citrusy, like someone tried to make a plane smell like a spa.
Sin sits across from me, angled slightly so he can see both me and the door. Of course he does.
I buckle in, then look at him. “Now will you tell me where we’re going?”
“We’re heading south,” he says.
“That’s ominous.”
“You’ll see.”
I narrow my eyes. “You really love that phrase.”
“I love staying alive more.”
The pilot’s voice comes through the small intercom, announcing takeoff. The plane begins to move, rolling down the runway with a smooth surge. My stomach lifts. The world outside blurs into dark trees and lights. Then we’re airborne. I grip the armrest, not because I’m afraid of flying, but because everything about tonight is too much motion, too much uncertainty. My life has become a chessboard and I don’t even know which piece I am.
Sin’s gaze is on me. “You okay?”
I nod quickly. “Fine.”
His eyes hold mine. “Lie.”
I glare at him. “Stop doing that.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not lying,” I say, then my voice drops. “I’m just… trying not to fall apart.”
Something shifts in his face. The hard edge doesn’t disappear, but it changes shape. It’s less sharp. “You don’t have to perform for me,” he says.
I laugh softly, because if I don’t, I’ll cry. “That’s unfortunate. I had a whole routine prepared. Jokes. Deflection. Possibly jazz hands.”
His mouth twitches. “No jazz hands.”
“I can’t make promises.”
He watches me for a beat, then glances away like he’s giving me privacy to be human. And the strangest thing happens. My heartbeat slows. Not because the threat is gone. But because he’s here. Because his presence is like a wall. Like nothing can get through it.
I hate that I need that.
I also want it.
The engine hum becomes steady white noise. The cabin lights are low. The vibration of the plane seeps into my bones like a lullaby I didn’t ask for. I stare out the small window at darkness and scattered lights below, and my eyelids get heavier than they should. Exhaustion hits like a wave. Adrenaline withdrawal. Shock. The body finally realizing it’s allowed to rest for a minute.
Sin shifts in his seat, jacket creasing softly. I keep my eyes on him because it’s easier than thinking about what could have happened last night.
His gaze is back on me again.
“What?” I whisper.
“You’re fading,” he says.
“I’m not fading,” I argue, already fading.
His eyes go to my face, then my hands. “Sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. I’m here.” That shouldn’t be as comforting as it is.
My throat tightens. “You say that like it’s a guarantee.”
“It is,” he says, voice low and absolute.
My heart does that stupid thing again, like it’s trying to rewrite my entire dating history based on one sentence. I swallow. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
I want to ask what he means by that, but my brain is turning syrupy. My eyes keep closing against my will. I force out one more question, stubborn to the end. “If I wake up and we’re in a basement with porcelain dolls, I’m going to haunt you.”
His mouth curves slightly. “Noted.”
“And… don’t let them hurt me,” I whisper, and I hate how small it sounds.
Sin’s voice is quieter, closer to something gentle. “Nobody touches you.”
The words wrap around me like a blanket and I lose the fight. Sleep takes me.
The next thing I know, there’s a shift in movement. A change in sound. The plane’s descent, my body floating slightly against the seatbelt. My eyes crack open and everything is dim and blurred. My cheek’s pressed against the seat, drool threatening my dignity.
I blink. And realize I’m not in the seat anymore. I’m in the air. Sin’s arms are around me, carrying me like I weigh nothing. My face is pressed against his chest, warm through his shirt. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, slow and controlled. For a second my brain panics. Then my brain recognizes him.