But I needed to know the truth.
I kept going.
I made a tight turn into a secondary corridor that ran parallel to the main hallway. It opened near the back of the estate, where a long row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a stretch of immaculate garden lined with palm trees and lit pathways.
Past that: the private runway.
The Dragunov jet sat there in the distance, all sleek and black, its surface reflecting the moonlight. Even from here, it looked predatory.
I needed to get across the garden without being spotted from inside the house.
I slipped out the back French door as quietly as I could, pulling it closed behind me. The cool night air of the desert wafted gently over my skin, carrying the faint scent of night flowers and jasmine.
I ducked low along the edge of the house, staying in the shadow where the building blocked the light. My heartbeat ticked in time with my steps. Halfway across the lawn, a motion light flicked on at the far end of the property.
My pulse spiked.
I dropped immediately into a crouch behind a trimmed hedge, holding my breath. No footsteps followed. No voices. Maybe they’d think it was a stray cat.
I waited ten long seconds before moving again.
The hangar was a shadowed shape beyond the runway lights, guarded by nothing more than a half-bored mechanic leaning against a toolbox. He was maybe twenty and definitely distracted by his phone in his hand.
I wasn’t going to walk through the front. The mechanic would undoubtedly look up and spot me that way. So I stayed low and skirted the hangar’s outer wall, keeping the corner of the building between us like a shield. Luckily, the side entrance sat slightly ajar, propped by a small crate.
When I reached the side door, I paused.
Took a breath.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
And moved.
I slipped inside.
The hangar smelled like oil, metal, faint ozone, and heat from the massive industrial lamps overhead. The plane sat in the center like a sleeping dragon. The stairs were already lowered.
The mechanic didn’t notice me. He had earbuds in.
I moved along the shadowed edge of the hangar wall, careful not to let my silhouette cross any bright patches of light. The man only looked up once, scratching his chin, before going back to scrolling.
The plane door was open.
This was my chance.
I crossed the last ten meters at a near run, soft steps barely touching the floor as I ran up the stairs and into the dim cabin.
Inside, the air was cooler. There were plush seats arranged in two rows and a narrow galley in the front of the plane. The space smelled of leather, cedar, and a faint fragrance that was probably expensive cologne from one of the brothers.
I needed a hiding place.
The galley had a storage alcove behind the paneling. It was meant for keeping luggage or gear during turbulence. Barelylarge enough for one person, but I’d hunkered down in worse spaces during escapes that mattered far more.
I crawled inside and pulled the panel shut behind me, leaving a sliver for air. I stayed curled up in the dark corner of the luggage alcove long enough for my hips to go numb and my legs to fall asleep. Eventually, the hum of the engines deepened as the jet powered up, and I held my breath when I heard footsteps on the stairs.
It had to be Andrei.
