Sky’s POV
The plane ride was a suffocating expanse of forced silence. After the catastrophic moment of his touch during takeoff, I didn’t dare read aloud again. Zayne spent the rest of the flight working on his tablet, headphones on, a visible barrier of concentration. I, in turn, meticulously organized every file on my own device, wrote out notes on the non-existent Dankins briefing, and avoided looking in his direction entirely. The emotional expenditure of maintaining a blank face had left me hollowed out, my body heavy with exhaustion.
It was already evening when we landed in San Francisco. The air was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the filtered, recycled air of the plane. A black sedan with tinted windows waited for us, the driver holding a discreet sign with Mr Reed’s firm l
