The cabin of the private jet was eerily quiet, save for the steady, turbines-deep whine of the engines pushing them higher into the stratosphere.
Outside the reinforced windows, the chaotic sprawl of the city dissolved into a vast, unbroken ocean of gray clouds, touched at the very edge by the pale, bruised pink of a rising sun.
Bella sat near the front, staring blankly at her reflection in the dark glass. Her hands were still smudged with soot and dried blood, the adrenaline finally washing out of her system to leave behind a deep, bone-aching exhaustion.
Across the narrow aisle, Damien sat motionless in a leather seat that seemed entirely too small for his frame. He had wrapped a makeshift bandage around his shoulder where a mercenary’s blade had grazed him, but he hadn't asked for
