Page 82 of Duty Bound

She didn’t want to believe he was dead, that she’d never see him again.

It was just… she had so much to lose.

The doors closed, then the plane began to taxi along the runway. The anxiety she’d felt up to now began to dissipate. A few more seconds then they'd be airborne.

Pat had said as soon as they left Afghanistan airspace, she’d be safe. Home free. The sparse, dry scenery flew past the window, faster and faster, until it became one long, yellow-green blur. The plane groaned and the wheels lifted. They were up.

She leaned back, eyes closed. Didn’t want to open them until she was safe. How long until they flew into Iran airspace? Ten minutes, twenty?

An hour later, she was finally able to relax.

They’d done it. She was free.

Blade had done it. He’d gotten her out, just like he’d promised.

Pity he wasn’t here to share the moment with her. They should be celebrating right now with a glass of bubbly. Stitch should be home with Soraya.

So many people had pulled together to make this happen, and she was the one getting out. They were stuck there, God only knew in what state.

It didn’t feel right.

Lily felt the plane start to descend and opened her eyes. She’d slept most of the way from Turkey to Charlotte. Now, about to land in her home state, she felt the weight of the past week lift.

Reality was settling in. She was safe.

They wouldn’t come for her here. Too late, they’d lost their chance. She’d give the codes to the authorities, and it would no longer be her problem. Pat had said a team would be waiting at the airport to debrief her. CIA, NSA, and goodness knows who else.

All she cared about was that the nightmare was over.

A cloudless, cobalt sky welcomed her home. A bright sunny day in Charlotte, NC.

She couldn’t enjoy it. Not with Blade still out there, whereabouts unknown.

Maybe Pat had heard from Stitch in the interim. It had been a long flight. Two flights, in fact. She’d left her travel partner in Turkey and gone on to board the American Airlines plane with no problems. She’d even removed the burqa after takeoff. Lily left Turkey as the borrowed-passport woman, but she arrived in America as herself.

Holy shit. Pat wasn't kidding about the debrief.

She stepped off the plane, carry-on slung over her shoulder, then walked into the terminal. A SWAT team greeted her.

Seriously?

Was scaring the daylights out of her really necessary? After everything she'd just gone through, this felt like total overkill.

But they led her to a private room where three stern-looking guys and one equally no-nonsense lady waited around a conference table.

The room was stark, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that put her on edge. There were no pictures on the walls, no furniture other than the table and a few chairs. It felt cold, almost clinical—a stark contrast to the warmth of sunlight she'd just left behind on the tarmac.

Lily sat then placed her carry-on beside her chair. The air was thick with anticipation, or maybe it was just the recycled air conditioning. Either way, it made her skin prickle.

One of the men introduced himself as Agent Thompson. He attempted a smile, which made him look constipated, and said, “Thanks for joining us.”

Like she’d had a choice?

“I’m glad to be back.”

“I’m sure.” The woman spoke for the first time. “You’ve suffered a terrible ordeal.”

No shit.

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