From the air, it looks untouched—clean streets, soft lights reflecting off the water, the kind of place people come to feel safe.
Normal.
But I’ve learned something over the years—
The cleanest places hide the dirtiest secrets.
The jet descends through low cloud cover, smooth and controlled.
Inside, no one speaks.
No one needs to.
We’re all locked in.
Focused.
Ready.
“Two minutes,” the pilot calls from the cockpit.
I check my gear one last time—weapon secured, comms live, the device locked inside a reinforced case now strapped tight across my chest.
Still here.
Still intact.
Still the only thing standing between truth… and everything disappearing.
Jase watches me from across the aisle.
Not subtle.
Never subtle.
“You planning on checking that ten more times?” he asks.
“Maybe eleven,” I reply.
A corner of his mouth lifts.
“Good. Means you’re nervous.”
“I don’t get nervous.”
“Yeah,” he says. “You do.”
I glance at him.
“About you.”
That wipes the smirk right off his face.
Good.
Fair trade.
The landing gear deploys.
