ADRIAN
The airport is too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet—this is the kind that makes the back of my neck tighten. The kind that tells me something has already gone wrong.
The hangar lights flicker overhead as we pull up. The guards who should be stationed outside are nowhere in sight. The security booth is dark. The cameras aren’t humming.
Someone has been here.
Someone has been cleaning up.
I step out of the car first, scanning the shadows. Tobias moves beside me, hand on his weapon, eyes sharp. Isabella stays close behind us, wrapped in her coat, her wedding dress hidden beneath it. She looks small in the cold air, but her chin is lifted, her steps steady.
She’s stronger than she knows.
“Pilot’s inside,” Tobias murmurs, nodding toward the jet.
Good. At least one thing has
