. . . ELEANOR The plane touched down in New York, the wheels skimming the runway with a jolt. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I gripped the armrest, my heart pounding in my chest. I glanced over at Dante, who seemed calm but focused, his expression unreadable. Rhys was beside him, his face set in a determined frown. As soon as the plane came to a halt, they stood, their movements brisk and purposeful. Dante stepped out first, his eyes scanning the tarmac, his body tense with anticipation. Rhys followed closely behind, his posture alert, every muscle coiled tight like a spring. Me and Lena exchanged a quick glance, a silent question passing between us, before we too stepped out, the cold New York air hitting us like a wave. As we walked down the steps of the private jet, I n

