We needed to get out of here.
I needed to think. And I couldn’t think here.
26
BETH
Zaghan was a monster.
A loud crash, then screams.
I jolted awake to these distinct sounds, my heart hammering in my chest, pulse loud in my ears.
At first I was confused, couldn’t remember where I was or what I was doing there.
The surface beneath me had felt soft and silky, a blanket draped over me, plush pillows surrounding me. And I felt weightless, like I was floating.
Then I looked around the tiny room, adrenaline pulsing in my veins. It looked like a cabin with tiny multiple windows, floating through the clouds.
Clouds.
The private jet. I was in a private jet, flying back to Braemont.
Our car had been in perfect condition. The soldiers or whoever was responsible for the repairs even went out of their way to fill the tank up with gas. It would have been enough for our journey back home, nothing but a smooth ride to Braemont, unless we decided to make a stop at another city.
But then there was thatthingwith a different desire, a different plan. He said he was heading to Braemont too, but with the private jet. So he sent Kenzo’s car ahead and asked us to fly with him.
I ended up falling asleep the second we slipped into the jet. The reality ahead of me, I was afraid to confront. I was…exhausted, drained physically and emotionally. A lot was happening, a lot I couldn’t wrap my head around. So I just…slept.
It hadn’t been up to five minutes since I dozed off on one of the chairs. I wondered who carried me to this room.
More screams. More cries. They slipped into my thoughts, and my anxiety returned, my stomach twisting.
Wait, what exactly was going on out there?
I flipped the blanket off, my feet hitting the floor just as the door to the cabin slid open.
Kenzo stumbled in, his bluish-grey eyes wide with horror, his body trembling.
The sight alone made panic spread through me like wildfire.
“What’s happening?” I asked, my voice shaking. I felt sick, like I was about to pass out from the twisted fear of the unknown.
I fumbled with the oversized slippers I found by the tiny bed, my mind immediately jumping to the worst—wewerecrashing. We were about to die.
Cold sweat beaded on my skin at that horrific thought. I didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not exploding mid-air, my bodyscattered in tiny pieces. They would be lucky if they could gather some parts to bury.
“Are we dying?” For some reason, that was the only thing my mind kept looping back to the more seconds Kenzo wasted on not telling me what was happening.
“Someone needs to fucking stop that psycho.” His voice trembled, panic woven into each word.
“Psycho?” I asked. “Who?”
He didn’t reply. He gripped my wrist instead, yanking me toward the door. We practically raced through the tiny meeting room and dining area, then finally, we arrived where the commotion was. And I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Zaghan stood at the open jet door, fingers wrapped around a flight attendant’s throat. The prettiest of the two. Nina Dovetsky was her name. She dangled in the air, feet kicking, her mouth opened in a silent, desperate plea.
Terror choked me. What was happening before my eyes? Was I still asleep and this was one of my nightmares?
