Jace is somewhere I can't see. Probably hasn't moved since takeoff. The Reaper can stay still for hours, conserving energy, waiting for the moment when stillness becomes violence.
I'm alone with my thoughts. Which is dangerous.
Dom should be here. He should be sitting beside me, making dry observations about the recycled air and the quality of the in-flight meals, keeping me grounded with his quiet presence. He'd have something clever to say about Helena Cross. Something that would cut through the fear and make the mission feel manageable.
Instead, there's an empty seat and a grief that won't fade no matter how many miles we put between ourselves and that drainage ditch.
I chose Jinx over him. I'd make the same choice again. But knowing that doesn't make it easier. Maybe nothing will.
The woman in the window seat beside me shifts, pulling out earbuds and settling in for the long haul. She's young, maybe mid-twenties, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Athletic build beneath her oversized hoodie. Something about her face is familiar, but I can't place it. Could be I've seen her somewhere before. Could be she just has one of those faces.
"Long flight," she says.
"Yeah."
"Business or pleasure?"
"Business."
"Shame." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Those stay flat, watchful. Assessing. "Singapore's beautiful this time of year. The gardens are incredible. You should take some time to see the sights."
"Maybe next time."
She nods and puts in her earbuds, conversation over, but the exchange lingers. The way she initiated contact. The specific mention of the gardens. The fact that she chose to sit next to me when there were empty rows throughout the cabin.
Paranoia, probably. Geneva made me see threats everywhere. Every stranger is a potential enemy. Every coincidence is a trap waiting to spring.
But I didn't survive the pits by ignoring my instincts.
I pull out my phone, type a message to Marlee:Window seat. Dark hair, ponytail. Athletic build. Familiar face. Watch her.
A minute later, her response:Already watching. Noticed her in the terminal. She was looking at you. Tracked you to the gate. Chose this seat specifically.
Fuck.
Could be nothing. Could be a random stranger who thinks I'm attractive. Could be a journalist who recognized someone from one of the Harrison brothers' past operations and wants to know more.
Could be the Silent, keeping tabs on us before we even land. Making sure we walk into whatever trap they've prepared.
Either way, we can't confront her here. Too public. Too many civilians who could get hurt if things go sideways. We'll have to deal with it in Singapore, on our terms.
I type back:Don't engage. Watch and wait. We'll handle it on the ground.
Her response is a single thumbs-up emoji. Marlee's never been one for unnecessary words.
I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. The plane hums around me, engines steady, cabin pressurized. The woman beside me appears to be asleep, but her breathing is too even, too controlled. She's awake. Watching without watching.
In sixteen hours, we'll be on the ground in Singapore. In twenty-four, we'll be breaching the facility.
Helena Cross is waiting.
And somewhere in this cabin, or on the ground ahead, someone might be watching our every move. Making note of our numbers. Reporting our positions.
No pressure.
Just can’t afford any mistakes… that’s all.
Chapter Eleven: Jinx
