Chapter Twenty-Six
Adrian
T he midday sun gleamed off the sleek white jet waiting on the private airstrip, its engines humming low and expensive, impatient as a caged beast.
I kept one arm draped over Isla’s shoulders, half because the sunlight made her hair glow, half because if I didn’t keep some part of me anchored to her, I was liable to snatch her up and cart her right back to my bed like a dragon clutching treasure.
"That's all yours?" she asked, staring up at the jet with open awe, the breeze blowing fine gold strands across her cheek.
"Technically, it’s all of ours,” I admitted, tucking the wayward strands behind her ear, unable to resist touching her even for a moment.
"But we share custody. I get it on weekends and holidays, duh.”
Isla grinned, her body melting into my side, like a perfect fit. Sunlight and soft things made up my girl.
She wore a pale sundress that matched her eyes, the ribbon I'd given her circling her throat like a promise .
Against the backdrop of the airstrip's industrial grays, she looked like something plucked from a dream—too soft, too perfect to be real.
"There they are," I nodded toward the black Audi pulling up beside us, Connor at the wheel with Sierra in the passenger seat.
Behind them, Jax's Bentley rolled to a stop, gleaming gold in the morning light because, of course, the pretentious fucker had it custom-painted to match his brand.
Isla watched the unfolding scene with a gentle amusement, as if knowing she belonged, playfully tucking close.
“Stick by me, angel. Play nice and I’ll let you pick your seat on the jet.”
“Oh, what an extraordinary privilege, Mr. Adrian,” she replied, tipping her chin up as if she wasn’t about to giggle. God, she was cute.
“Remember what I said?” I asked, dropping my head to skim my lips over her hair.
“Don’t wander off, trust only the guys and the security women, and stay within hunting distance at all times.”
She recited it in a way that managed to sound both obedient and delighted.
“Good girl," The words sent a delicate shiver through her that I felt in every point where our bodies connected.
Ever since that clusterfuck at Jax’s fight, we'd implemented non-negotiable security protocols. The memory still made my blood run cold.
If Mara hadn't been there… I gritted my teeth. Nothing like that would ever happen to my angel. I'd burn the world to dust first.
Mara now had two other women flanking her, personal protection for the girls. They were all ex-fighters, strong, tactile women who understood what the girls meant to us.
"Isla!" Sierra called, waving excitedly as she climbed out of Connor's Audi. She looked tiny next to his massive frame, in light jeans and a cardigan.
Connor's hand remained at the small of her back, his dark eyes scanning the surroundings with predatory focus .
No Toffee this time. We’d only be gone for the day, so my fluffy, lucious little prince-ling wouldn’t be joining us. I nearly sniffled at the reminder.
Isla waved back at Sierra, clearly eager to join her new friend. I kept my arm around her as we approached the others, unwilling to break contact even for a moment.
I already didn’t have my prince—I wasn’t letting Isla go at all.
The girls had become fast friends after the carnival, already making plans for shopping trips and visits. It was fucking adorable.
“Fucked ride," Jax commented, nodding at my neon green Lamborghini as he helped Estelle from the Bentley.
As usual, he was dressed like he'd stepped off a runway—designer jeans, silk button-down, gold glinting at his wrists and throat.
Estelle, elegant in a simple dress, carried a bag that undoubtedly contained some type of non-technology entertainment for the flight.
"Speaking of rides," I said, gesturing toward the jet, "shall we?"
Mara appeared from inside the hangar, her athletic frame clad in the sleek black uniform she'd adopted since becoming head of our private security detail.
She'd quit the WBC and worked exclusively for us, recruiting a team of ex-military women who now shadowed the girls whenever we couldn't be with them.
"Perimeter's clear," she reported to Jax, her expression professional but her eyes warming slightly when they landed on Estelle.
She and the girls had somehow formed a bond.
"Jet's been swept twice. Kim and Trina are already on board."
Jax nodded, his hand sliding to the small of Estelle's back in a gesture that mirrored Connor's with Sierra. "Good. Let's move."
I guided Isla toward the waiting aircraft, hyperaware of everything around us—the distant rumble of commercial planes from the main airport, the soft gravel crunching beneath our feet, the way her body fit perfectly against mine as we walked.
Since the incident, my protective instincts had kicked into overdrive .
I'd always been obsessive, but now there was an edge of desperation to it, a knowledge that I couldn't lose her.
The stairs to the jet were lowered, and at the top stood two women in matching black tactical outfits, Kim and Trina, who now worked Mara's detail.
They nodded respectfully as we approached, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.
Isla hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the gleaming aircraft with wide eyes. "It's so... big," she murmured.
I grinned, pressing a kiss to her temple. "That's what she said.”
She rolled her eyes, shoving my shoulder playfully. "You're impossible."
"Impossibly charming," I corrected, guiding her up the stairs ahead of me, shamelessly enjoying the view of her ass in that sundress.
"Impossibly handsome. Impossibly soon-to-be champion."
She glanced back over her shoulder, her smile fond despite the exasperation in her eyes. "And impossibly humble."
I laughed, following her into the cabin. The interior was exactly as luxurious as you'd expect from something Jax had a hand in designing—leather seats and polished wood, with a small bar and entertainment system.
Connor and Sierra were already settling in, Connor positioning himself beside the window before placing Sierra right onto his lap.
Isla paused in the aisle, taking in the opulent surroundings. "This is amazing.”
"Only the best for my angel," I said, guiding her to a pair of seats toward the back.
I preferred being able to see everyone, to control who approached us. "Window or aisle?"
"Window," she answered, like it was obvious, sliding into the seat.
I settled beside her, immediately draping my arm across her shoulders, needing the contact.
She leaned into me naturally, her body language open and trusting in a way that still amazed me.
This beautiful, soft creature had chosen me, violence, and all.
Jax and Estelle boarded last, Mara following close behind. Kim secured the door while Trina spoke briefly with the pilot. The engines increased their hum, preparing for takeoff.
"Everyone buckled?" Jax called, settling into his seat across the aisle, Estelle tucked against his side.
I helped Isla with her seatbelt, my fingers lingering definitely longer than necessary on her thighs.
Her cheeks flushed pink at the contact, and I couldn't resist leaning in to press my lips against the warmth.
“Pretty,” I murmured against her skin, relishing the shiver that ran through her.
Takeoff was smooth, the powerful engines pushing us back in our seats as the jet climbed rapidly into the clear blue sky.
Isla gripped my hand tightly, her eyes fixed on the window as the city fell away beneath us.
"First time on a private jet?" I asked, my thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.
She nodded, her expression a mix of excitement and lingering nervousness. “Obviously.”
I grinned, leaning closer to whisper in her ear, “Well, have you heard about the mile-high club?"
"Adrian!" She blushed deeper, glancing around to see if anyone had heard.
"What?" I feigned innocence, enjoying the way her pulse jumped at my teasing. "I was just going to suggest we look out the window. The view is amazing from up here."
She gave me a skeptical look, but turned to gaze out at the clouds stretching below us like a vast, white ocean.
The sunlight caught in her hair, transforming it into sugared gold against the fabric of her dress.
Once we'd reached cruising altitude, the seatbelt sign dinged off, and the cabin came alive with movement.
Connor unbuckled and immediately moved to the food cart. Jax finally relaxed, moving to the bar to drown Estelle in thirty-year-old scotch.
“Can I go with the girls?” Isla asked, and when I met her gaze, she was giving me the prettiest pleading eyes ever.
I made a huge show of thinking before I nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead and releasing her. "Of course, angel. I'll be right here."
She smiled brightly, squeezing my hand before making her way to where Sierra sat. Estelle joined them a moment later, the three women forming a tight circle of animated conversation.
I watched them with a mixture of pride and possessiveness.
Jax slid into the seat Isla had vacated with a glass, his expression amused. "So whipped," he commented with a smirk. "Welcome to the club."
I snorted, still watching Isla as she laughed at something Sierra said. "Like you're one to talk. You built Estelle a fucking private academy.”
"Best investment I ever made," he replied without hesitation.
His eyes drifted to where Estelle sat, her long fingers animatedly describing something to the other women. "They seem good together."
Connor joined us, taking a seat across. "Sierra was up all night choosing books for the flight,” he said, his usual gruffness softened by fondness.
I nodded, a smile tugging at my lips as I watched Isla. She fit so perfectly into our world, slotting into the space I’d been longing to fill.
"You think she's handling it okay? All of this?" I gestured vaguely, encompassing the jet, the security, the overwhelming reality of who and what we were.
Connor's eyes narrowed slightly. "She seems adaptable.”