Raisel’s POV
The plane hums steadily in the air, and I’m clutching a glass of alcohol like it’s my lifeline. Flying? Not my thing. Drinking through it? My only coping mechanism.
Across from me, Fiora watches with that amused little smirk of hers, shaking her head. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
“Bad people are behind us,” I mutter, swirling the liquid in my glass. “Alaric is—” I pause, my throat tightening.
“Alaric is what?”
Before I can answer, Jace appears out of nowhere, grinning. “Fiora, I’ve got a job for you.”
Just like that, she’s whisked away, and I reach for another drink.
“Enough, Raisel.” Soren’s voice cuts in, and his hand closes over mine before I can grab the glass.
I groan, muttering a few choice words at him. “I’m not drunk.”
“Good,” he says, deadpan. “Because
