"How long before we land?" I ask Pierre. He checks his watch, screws his eyes up as he calculates like I need his f*****g theatrics right now.
"Eight hours, give or take," he finally says.
"f*****g s**t!" I toss the phone hard against the floor, hear it shatter. But I don't care. Pierre’s asking me something, but it’s not registering. I'm searching my pants for the other phone, the one Nicole has the number to. But the call goes straight to voicemail. I haven’t felt this powerless since the night I watched Reynard slitting my wife's throat open.
Nicole
"You made it," Charles says to me as I approach him at one of the back tables in the bar. "And you were not followed."
"I wasn't," I answer, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.
I'm soaking wet from the snow, and fr
