Chapter 3
Hawk
The city falls away beneath us in sheets of light. I don’t look at her first. I check altitude. Wind. Fuel. Clearance path. Rotor rhythm settles into something clean and predictable. The kind of vibration that tells you the machine is behaving. I like machines that behave. People rarely do.
Command crackles in my ear.
“Corridor breach confirmed. Two unidentified.”
“Copy,” I say.
If someone forced the elevator call, this wasn’t coincidence. This was a close call.
I adjust heading ten degrees north and climb. Below, Cupid City pretends nothing happened. Above, it’s just air.
I finally glance back. She’s strapped in, barefoot still with her gown gathered in her lap.
She’s not a trembling woman who’s being rescued.
There’s no wide-eyed shock. Definitely not the demeanor of a frightened socialite.
Katerina has the posture of someone measuring distance while being flown through the air. That … is interesting.
“You surprised?” I ask through the headset.
Her gaze shifts to mine without hesitation. “About the helicopter?”
“Yes.”
“Not totally.”
That answer sits wrong. Most people would say yes.
I bank slightly to avoid a low cloud layer and feel the subtle shift of her weight with the turn. She doesn’t grip the seat. Bracing with her legs, I notice that’s training. Her file didn’t say anything about training.
It said: high-value client. Political ties. Use Discretion.
It did not say: operational awareness.
I replay the ballroom when she entered. I noticed her scan pattern. The moment she saw someone she didn’t want to see. She didn’t flinch. She recalculated. That’s not fear. That’s experience.
“Who was he?” I ask.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Wrong answer, but I don’t push it. Not yet.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Somewhere quiet,” I say.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s a direction.”
She studies me like she’s deciding whether I’m predictable. She won’t find that comforting. Safehouse Alpha sits thirty-eight minutes out on a mountain ridge with a landing pad. No lights unless activated. No curious neighbors.
I’ll consider it temporary. If command wants her moved again, they’ll move her. If I decide she needs to be moved again, they’ll listen. Because something about this doesn’t match the brief.
“You knew we were there tonight,” I say.
She doesn’t deny it this time. Her eyes shift toward the window instead.
“I was promised protection,” she says evenly.
Promised … by who? Not my lane. Except it just became my lane.
The wind smooths as we clear the last of the turbulence. Below us, everything looks controlled and organized. It never is.
I tighten my grip on the controls and make the decision official in my head. Maybe she’s not disappearing tonight. She’s being evaluated.
Until I know what just forced my hand … she’s not going anywhere without me.