Chapter 65
The low hum of the private jet’s engines was a constant background as Calvin’s sleek Gulfstream soared through the clouds, cutting a clean line back to U.S. airspace. The cabin was dimly lit with soft amber lights that bounced off the dark leather seats and polished fixtures. A quiet tension hung in the air, like a storm building just beneath the surface. Calvin sat nearest the window, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his gaze fixed on the inky black sky outside. Across from him, Quinn leaned back, arms crossed, his mind clearly elsewhere, though his eyes occasionally flicked to Sasha who sat just a few feet away. She sat relaxed, legs crossed, boots still on, picking at the torn seam of her sleeve. She looked completely unbothered, but Quinn knew her well enough now to see through it—the
- Writer
