I grabbed Elara, yanking her down toward the emergency armored seats, as outside, the brutal air battle began. I had won the war against the Coven, but this internal conflict had only just started, and I had lost every stronghold.
The Northvale private jet cabin felt like a gilded torture chamber. The warning alarms' screams had died down, replaced by the humming of engines now operating under new commands, and the unsettling hiss of static-filled radio. Elara, the Lady North, was thrown sideways by the last impact.
I rose from the emergency seat, my blood boiling. The pilot was ashen, his hands gripping the controls with futile strength.
"They managed to disable our primary navigation system, Mr. North," the pilot stammered. "The jets... they broke our formation."
I glanced at Elara.
