52
Sara
I watch, stomach in knots, as Peter calmly pockets the phone and walks back to the pilot’s cabin—presumably to inform Anton that we’re going to Esguerra’s compound, regardless of the arms dealer’s feelings on the matter.
“You know he’ll just shoot us down on approach,” Yan says when Peter reappears a minute later. “And that’s if our fuel lasts that long.”
“It will,” Ilya says confidently. “And he won’t. You heard Peter: Esguerra needs us to sort out this mess quickly.”
“Yeah, sure,” Yan mutters and heads over to the bathroom in the back of the plane.
My legs don’t feel entirely steady as I walk over to the couch and sit down.
Is this how we’ll die?
Not by a bullet, but in a plane crash?
The couch dips beside me, and a big, warm hand covers my knee. “It’ll be all right, pti
