Chapter 6 Aleksander
ALEKSANDER
The scream pulls me to my feet before I even realize I’m moving.
Instinct. The cabin is alive with the low thrum of nervous voices, people twisting in their seats to see what’s going on.
I glance at Bella—she’s up too, her daughter clutched to her chest, eyes wide but face calm.
She’s trying to hide the fear for her kid.
As we step into the aisle, a stream of passengers trickles past. Some are just rubberneckers, but one woman stops right next to us, gripping her purse like a lifeline. Her voice is thin and breathless. “Did you know they found a dead body in the cabin upstairs?”
For a second, I think I misheard.
“A dead body?” Bella echoes.
The woman nods, swallowing hard, eyes flicking from me to Bella. “Crew found him in his seat. Business class. They said there was blood.” She presses her lips together, like she’s afraid she’s already said too much, then hurries on down the aisle.
I glance at Bella, trying to read her reaction, but her face is blank—only her grip on her daughter gives her away.
Around us, whispers ripple, rumors blooming.
The flight attendants are tense, voices clipped, trying to keep order but not quite succeeding.
There’s a new smell in the air, something metallic and wrong, just faint enough to make me question if I imagined it.
I move closer to Bella, lowering my voice. “Stay here.” My words are soft but meant to be an anchor. I want to protect her, even though I know she hates that, hates being told what to do. But right now, I can’t help it.
Her eyes meet mine, guarded, searching. “What are you going to do?”
I scan the cabin—faces pale, anxious, people whispering into their phones or glancing toward the stairs. The urge to act, to find answers, surges in me. “I’m going to see what’s happening up there,” I say. “Stay with her. Don’t move until I’m back.”
She nods, holding her daughter close. For a moment, something tightens in my chest—guilt, maybe, for dragging her into my world, or for wanting her so badly, even now.
I move quickly up the narrow staircase, pushing past a couple of panicked passengers. The buzz of anxious voices gets louder. Two flight attendants are blocking the entrance to business class, faces tense, arms outstretched to keep people from coming any closer.
I flash them my most reassuring smile, lowering my voice. “Is everything under control? I can help if you need—security, medical, whatever.” It’s automatic, the old instincts kicking in, the part of me that always needs to take charge in a crisis.
One attendant glances at my face, trying to gauge whether I’m a problem or a solution.
She doesn’t answer, just shakes her head, eyes flicking to the curtained section at the front of the cabin.
I can see the shapes of crew clustered around one seat, their voices urgent, movements tight and professional.
Behind me, other passengers are getting bold, trying to peek around the blockade, their curiosity turning ugly.
The attendant softens, just for a second. “Please, sir, go back to your seat. The authorities will meet us when we land. We need the aisle clear.” Her voice is polite, but there’s fear under it.
I nod, backing off. No sense in making a scene and getting detained myself. As I turn, I catch a glimpse—a white dress shirt, one sleeve hanging limply. Someone’s arm, slack, exposed, draped over the aisle. The crew moves to block the view, but it’s burned into my mind.
My pulse is up now, senses sharper, scanning every detail. Was this random? A fight? Something planned? Too many questions and not enough answers.
I head back down, my brain working through possibilities. I’m already cataloging faces, remembering who was seated where, who might have moved. My instincts are screaming at me—this wasn’t just an accident. Somebody wanted this to happen.
I find Bella in her suite, her daughter curled tight in her lap, face hidden in her mother’s chest. She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine for answers. I kneel beside her, speaking low.
“It’s real. Crew found a man dead. The police are meeting the flight when we land.” I see fear flicker across her face, and I reach for her hand, squeezing it hard. “It’s going to be alright. Just stay with her. Don’t talk to anyone else. If anything feels off, you find me, alright?”
Bella nods, her grip tightening in return. I can see she’s scared, but she’s trying to keep it together for her kid. For a moment, the world shrinks to just us, the hum of disaster blurring everything else.
I scan the aisle again. Someone on this plane is dangerous. And I won’t rest until I know who.
I leave Bella with her daughter and head toward the back, weaving through clusters of anxious passengers. The tension is thick; everyone is whispering, side-eying strangers, wondering what kind of flight they’ve ended up on.
Economy is packed and restless—passengers are buzzing with rumors, some looking half-asleep, others craning for news. I ignore them all, eyes searching until I spot Nikolai slumped across two cramped seats near the rear exit, arms folded, mouth slightly open, a light snore escaping him.
I nudge his foot. “Nikolai. Wake up.”
He grunts, squints up at me, face sour. “First class not good enough for you, boss?”
I give him a look. “Dead body in business class.”
That wakes him up. He straightens, wipes a hand over his face, eyes narrowing. “Dead body? Who?”
“Don’t know yet. Crew’s being tight-lipped. There was blood. Police are meeting us when we land.” I keep my voice low enough so only he can hear. “Come on,” I mutter. “We need to talk. Somewhere quieter.”
He gives me a sour look, but gets up, following me to the tiny space by the galley doors, away from nosy passengers and the aisle bustle. The hum of the engines and the clatter from the catering carts help mask our voices.
“The dead body they found,” Nikolai says. “You think it’s related to us?”
“Could be. Kirov’s on this flight. Saw him right after takeoff.” Just saying his name tastes like old blood.
Nikolai’s whole posture changes, a new tension in his shoulders. “Kirov? He’s here? On this plane?”
I nod, remembering the flash of that cold, predatory smile. “He’s not here for a vacation, and I almost ended up in a fight with him in the lounge. He wanted to make a scene. I walked away.”
Nikolai curses under his breath in Russian, dark and guttural. “Why didn’t you tell me? Boss, you know better. That man’s a viper. He set us up with that fake deal only to pull it from right under us.”
I keep my eyes on the floor for a second, feeling the old scar itch. “I know. I thought if I ignored him, he’d back off. I don’t know why he was acting like an idiot. Didn’t want you getting detained before we even took off.”
Nikolai shakes his head. “You should have told me. Kirov never travels alone. His crew’s probably scattered all over this plane. If there’s a dead body, and Kirov’s here, we have to assume this was planned. Or it’s just beginning.”
He runs a hand over his face, scanning the galley for anyone eavesdropping. “And we can’t do shit about it in here. No guns, not even a decent knife. We’re sitting ducks.”
“We stay alert. Watch who moves.”
Nikolai starts to turn away, but I catch his arm. “One more thing,” I say, lowering my voice even further. “Bella’s here. With her daughter.”
He squints, searching his memory. “Bella? The one I booked the ticket for?”
I nod. “Ring any bells?”
“Wait, don’t tell me it’s that Bella?” He says it like the name is a ghost, half-remembered from a story he never got to finish.
“Yeah,” I confirm, feeling something tense inside me. “She doesn’t know anything about Kirov. I need her protected—her and the girl. At all costs.”
Nikolai studies me, his eyes narrow and unreadable. He doesn’t know the details, not really. He just remembers that one night I came back with a wild look in my eyes, and she was already gone. No explanations, no goodbyes. Just vanished.
He raises a brow, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You want me to take care of her?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “You watch her. She’s off-limits to everyone. I don’t care what else happens—she’s not to be touched. No one gets near her. Not Kirov. Not anyone.”
For a moment, Nikolai doesn’t say anything, but I can see the gears turning in his head, all the things he isn’t saying. He just nods, one soldier to another. “Understood.” He glances at me, something like curiosity in his eyes. “She disappeared on you, didn’t she?”
I just nod, jaw tight. The whole plane feels heavier, like the walls are pressing in.
Nikolai lets it drop, giving me a long, considering look, but whatever he’s thinking stays unspoken. He just sets his shoulders and moves off, ready to do his job.
After splitting off from Nikolai, I make my way up the aisle, my thoughts racing.
Kirov on the plane, a body in business class, Bella just across the aisle with her daughter.
I try to keep my pace measured, not wanting to draw any more attention, but every step feels heavy.
No matter how many times I scan the passengers’ faces, nothing makes sense.
I catch myself checking for threats, just out of habit—watching hands, eyes, little movements—then reminding myself that I’m not on a street corner back home.
I’m in a tin can thirty thousand feet up.
I turn the corner and there she is. Bella’s standing near the first class curtain, arms folded tight around herself, looking for me. Relief flickers through me, but I keep my voice steady as I approach.
She looks up. “There you are.” Her voice is rough, low—she’s scared but trying not to show it. “I thought you were coming right back. What’s going on?”
I lower my voice. “Is your daughter okay?”
“She’s out. Went right back to sleep, even with all the noise.” Bella glances toward her seat, worry plain in her eyes. “Aleksander, what is happening?”