25. OLIVIA
OLIVIA
We were two and a half hours away from Zurich, and I was so ready to get off this plane.
It was obviously a sentiment shared by many. Restless passengers twitched and fidgeted in their seats. The flight map had never been so popular as in-flight entertainment. Every bump or shiver of turbulence was met with breathless silence. Just a bit longer.
Dawn broke beneath the plane. Window shades snapped up hopefully, allowing the warm gold light to fill the cabins. Against all odds, we’d made it to a brand-new day.
I was deliriously tired. Sore in all the wrong places.
But I didn’t stop moving. It made the time pass quicker, and kept my mind occupied from the creeping dark thoughts.
They splintered in, anyway.
The moment we arrived in Zurich, everything would change.
Jax said a car service would be waiting for us, courtesy of his buyer.
The tricky part would be fleeing the airport without being flagged by security.
Or locked down in mandatory quarantine. We had no luggage to collect.
And, thanks to the Vipers in the cargo hold, most of the passengers would find themselves in a similar predicament.
We’d use the mayhem and ire of five hundred angry lawyers to slip under the radar.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but so far, nothing had been.
There were some notable faults with it. Like the air warden, who I learned was bound and gagged in one of the bathrooms in upper economy. Ryle had broken the lock, essentially sealing the poor man inside.
And the plan didn’t even consider the many, many dead bodies on the plane itself. There would be a full-scale investigation. World-wide interest. Eyewitness reports that would likely recall the ditzy blonde flight attendant and her very odd associates.
These dire thoughts threatened to overwhelm me, so I was almost grateful when Lucille came to collect me for breakfast service.
With a silent groan, I dragged my aching feet after her. Thankfully, she delegated the trolley service to Marcus and two other harried flight attendants. We were on pilot duty.
I dreaded walking into the cockpit. Knowing what I did about Julie, and everything that had happened with Madoc, I couldn’t stop the nervous sweat that overcame me. Judging from Lucille’s frequent glances, I was doing a poor job at hiding it.
“We will go over the rules again,” Lucille said, ignoring my not-so-subtle eye roll as we prepared the breakfast trays. “You will be polite. You will address them as ‘sir’ or ‘captain’. You will not distract them with your doe-eyed kitten routine.”
I choked. “My what?”
Lucille raised her brows like I was being deliberately obtuse. “I have a daughter your age,” she said, a smile twitching at her lips. “I’ll tell you what I always tell her. Nothing is more fragile than confidence built on a man’s opinion.”
Heat rushed to my face.
I wasn’t surprised that she had that opinion of me. After all, I had spent a large portion of the flight seemingly fawning over men and their watches to identify the SKS.
Still. Not a great lasting impression.
Breakfast assembled, we headed toward the cockpit. I summoned the will to smile. We were in the final leg of it, I reminded myself. Just a few more hours.
Lucille scanned her ID across the wall panel. The light blinked green. She pushed the door open, then held it so I could walk in holding the serving trays.
The smell hit me instantly.
Sour male sweat, bitter metal, and warm leather, a combination that reminded me of my father’s office during his long working hours.
Both men were seated and locked into their radios.
Outside, the sky was streaked crimson and gold.
Inside, the darkness lingered, so the men appeared ghostly beneath the neon cosmos of flashing buttons and levers.
“About time,” the bigger man said without turning. “Keep a man hungry, and he’ll do unthinkable things.”
Lucille rolled her eyes as she waved me in.
“How’s it looking out there?” he asked gruffly, pressing something on the instrument panel.
“Well, Captain Miller, they’re not thrilled about the lockdown…”
“They’ll be less thrilled if another one of them croaks.”
Lucille nodded, but she looked exasperated by the man.
“We’ve been cleared to land,” Captain Miller went on. “Emergency crews will be standing by.” His stomach made a sound that could be heard over the engines.
At Lucille’s pointed look, I hurried over. The captain turned as I approached, his face lined with exhaustion. He was older, in his late fifties, with a neat buzzcut and a very unfortunate nose.
He accepted the food with a grunt and immediately ripped open the packaged ham-and-cheese sandwich. As I popped his soda into the cup holder, a hand flashed in my periphery.
I turned with a smile, ready to greet the co-pilot, then stopped dead.
The co-pilot was already staring at me.
No, not staring.
Gawking.
Like I was the last person he expected to see walking into the cockpit. He was younger than the captain, only a handful of years older than me. But there was a harshness to his features, tiny scars across his jaw and nose that went unnoticed unless you were close enough.
And I was definitely close enough.
I was so close that I saw the moment his eyes flashed in recognition, then anger. I saw the hint of ink on his wrist, just beneath his pristine white cuff. A tattoo that almost looked like a…
A cold stab of panic shot down my spine.
I snapped upright and backed away, my smile undoubtedly turning deranged. “E-Enjoy your food, sir.”
He turned slowly in his seat, tracking my retreat.
My heel caught on the metallic hatch of the server bay with a sharp ‘ping’. I stumbled, then righted myself on shaky legs.
He was facing me completely now. The co-pilot in the pristine white uniform. The tattoo of a viper on his wrist. The cold, calculating eyes.
The perfect camouflage.
Lucille was already at the door, swiping her ID badge. Our job was done.
I took another step back, unwilling to turn around. To expose my back. My heart thumped in my throat.
What happened next, happened in a matter of seconds.
Five heartbeats, each one threatening to crack through my ribs.
The Viper reached down beside him. There was a flash of silver. His mouth moved in a command. STOP.
A hand clawed at my arm, and suddenly I was yanked through the door.
There was a sound like a lightning strike.
I stumbled again, into the galley. Lucille stood in the doorway, staring at me with wide, shocked eyes.
My heart slammed into my ribcage.
I stared back at Lucille, uncomprehending. Then a bright crimson spot appeared on her forehead. It spilled open, blood running in parallel streams over her eyes.
She tipped forward and crumpled to the ground.
Dead.
My eyes lifted, unblinking. I watched as the co-pilot raised his arm again, gun aimed squarely at me. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
I waited for the gunshot. I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead.
“Come here,” he commanded.
Then suddenly, the captain rushed him, his huge body barreling into the assassin.
Another lightning strike.
The automatic timer clicked, and the cockpit door closed like a final curtain.
I stared at it.
There was blood on my face.
Lucille was dead.
There was blood in my mouth.
Lucille was dead.
There was a Viper in the cockpit. He had a gun.
We were all dead.
Numbly, I turned and walked aimlessly away from the cockpit. I ghosted for miles and miles, or what felt like miles, as I replayed it again. And again.
Gun. Lightning. Blood.
Vaguely, I heard someone gasp, and someone else stumbled out of my path. I knew that was bad, but I couldn’t remember why.
Lucille was dead.
Dead, dead.
And then.
“Liv?”
Impossibly hot hands cupped my face, his touch like fire on my shock-chilled skin. My eyes flicked up, and Jax’s face filled my vision, his wide, furious eyes chasing away the ghosts.
“What the fuck happened?” His hands moved, patting me down. “Is this yours? Are you bleeding? Princ—Liv. Liv, look at me.”
I did.
And that was when I finally screamed.