Hailey's POV
The jet was already in the air when the weight finally hit me.
Not during the sprint across the tarmac.
Not when the engines roared to life beneath my feet, not even when New York fell away beneath a blanket of clouds.
It came in the quiet.
The kind of quiet that presses against your ribs and forces you to breathe shallowly because anything deeper might c***k you open.
The cabin lights were dimmed to a low amber glow, casting long shadows across leather seats and polished surfaces that suddenly felt too clean for what we had just lived through. The private jet smelled faintly of antiseptic and metal and something warmer—him.
Kingsley sat across from me at first, his jacket discarded, his injured leg stretched out stiffly, his posture rigid in a way that
