A flight attendant shuts the door with a soft hiss, cutting out the cold and the world I knew along with it.
The inside of the jet looks nothing like I expected. It’s quiet, expensive, and so clean it doesn’t feel real. Cream-colored leather seats line both sides of the narrow aisle, facing each other like a living room in the sky. Brass fixtures gleam undersoft recessed lighting, and a faint scent of leather and espresso lingers in the air.
Every surface is polished. There’s no clutter and no sign of life. Just perfection wrapped in silence. Even the hum of the engines feels muted, as if the air itself knows who it belongs to.
Sienna’s curled up in one of the wide seats, scrolling through her phone. A blanket drapes over her legs, and there’s already a steaming cup of coffee sitting on the tray beside her. She looks perfectly at ease, like this is nothing new. And I guess it’s not. This is the life she’s used to. Not me, though. I’m feeling a bit like Dorthy in Oz right now. My world has gone from black and white to technicolor in the span of a few hours.
I sink into the seat across from her, my arm throbbing beneath the bandage. A man in a black suit passes by with a quiet nod and disappears toward the cockpit. Another stands near the back of the cabin, arms folded, eyes sharp. Both have guns. I swallow. Why do they need guns inside a jet? What do they think is going to happen?
Mr. Conti walks down the aisle sitting next to his daughter. It makes sense that he wants to sit next to her, given what happened. But it means that I’m going to be facing him for the entire flight.
To distract myself, I trace a seam in the leather with my finger, trying not to think about how far away I am from everything familiar. The low vibration of the engines rises as the pilot starts to taxi, and my stomach turns with the motion.
Sienna glances up and smiles like we’re just two friends on vacation.
“Here,” she says, holding out my phone. “I already texted a few people back home, letting them know we’re okay.”
Are we okay?
“Thanks,” I murmur, taking it carefully with my good hand.
The screen lights up when I unlock it. Messages, photos, and a dozen notifications lighting the top bar and for a second, I don’t know what to do. I should text someone. Tell them I’m alive. But who would I even send it to? Sara? But what do I say? Sorry I lived and Dave didn’t?
I look up. Sienna’s already lost in her feed again, and next to her, Mr. Conti sits with his phone in one hand, reading something I can’t see.
He doesn’t look up, but I swear he knows I’m watching.
And I can’t shake the feeling that every move I make from here on out is being measured.
I finally text Sara.
Sara
Are you okay?
Oh my god! Where are you? I’ve been so worried!
Just left the hospital. We’re going to stay with Sienna’s dad in Chicago.
I’m so sorry about Dave.
It takes longer this time for her reply.
I don’t even know what to feel right now. The police said the men who broke in were at the wrong apartment. Did they tell you that, too?
Slowly, I look up. Mr. Conti’s holding glass of something dark in his hand, his gaze already fixed on me. Like he’s been waiting.
“Yes?” he says, voice calm and unreadable.
“Sara said the cops told her the men who broke in were at the wrong apartment.”
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away. Just swirls the liquid in his glass once before saying, almost casually, “That’s what I paid them to say.”
For a second, I forget how to breathe.
The engine hums steadily beneath us, the city lights shrinking below. Sienna hums softly to herself, oblivious, while I sit frozen, phone cold in my hand, staring at the man who just admitted to rewriting reality.
I should be terrified. Iamterrified.
