Four hours.
I lost my promise not to cause issues and pressed the button for an air-hostess. Cut glowered when the woman with coiffed red hair appeared. Ignoring him, I begged for some Panadol, some Advil, anything to lessen my pain.
She looked at Cut.
He shook his head.
I never did get my painkillers.
* * *
Five hours.
I stared out the window, counting stars, following wisps of clouds and pleading with the universe to keep Jethro safe.
“Stop fidgeting.” Cut narrowed his eyes at my tapping fingers and dancing legs.
“Let me walk the cabin. I need to stretch.”
And use the bathroom.
His jaw twitched. “Five minutes, Nila. If you’re any longer, or I suspect you’re disobeying me, I’ll give you a taste of Diamond Dust.”
“Diamond Dust?”
His lips curled. “You remember...the drug Jethro gave you from Milan? The magical substance that turns you mute and obedient while you can scream all you want in the inside?”
I gulped.
I completed my stretches and a bathroom break in four minutes.
* * *
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten hours.
Clammy sweat broke out over my skin. Adrenaline drenched my system the closer we flew to England. The cast itched with hot imprisonment, eerily heavy with its tormenting cargo. Lack of sleep clouded my mind and I swore the facets and sharp edges of diamonds burrowed their way into my flesh, gnawing me like a worm gnawed an apple.
* * *
Eleven hours.
The captain announced our upcoming arrival. Breakfast was served and cleared away in record time. Cut smiled and patted my hand. “Almost there, my dear. Almost home.”
I cringed, looking out the window.
I just want this to be over.
* * *
Eleven hours and forty minutes.
