Page 19 of Wreckage

A sudden, gut-wrenching drop.

Oxygen masks fell from the ceiling.

There was a crackle of static and shouting from the cockpit.

Adrian and I shared a look. A look that said,This is bad. Real fucking bad.

Dean’s voice was sharp and tense as he radioed for help, his shouts loud enough that we could hear them.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my breathing steady.

“Dean?” Adrian called out.

There was a pause.

“Brace yourselves,” Dean’s rough voice called out.

Fuck.

I turned sharply toward Elena.

“Elena!”

She didn’t respond. Her chest was rising too fast, her eyes wide and unseeing, her body locked in place. She was having a full-blown panic attack.

I cursed and unbuckled my seatbelt, trying to get to her. Adrian grabbed me, yanking me back into my seat.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot!” he snapped. “It’s not safe! Buckle in, man. She’ll be OK.”

I struggled against his hold, ignoring his words. A sudden downward dive made me fall back into my seat. Quickly, I put on my seatbelt again.

We both cast terrified looks at Elena.

She was gasping, her fingers gripping the armrest so tightly her knuckles turned white. She needed to take her oxygen mask and put it on her face.

I wanted to help her.

I wanted to get to her.

But I couldn’t.

“E-Elena. Elena!” I shouted. “Put the mask on! Put it on!”

Her eyes were as big as saucers. Fumbling, she put the mask on her face, relieving me. She was freaking out way too much, though.

Dean’s voice came over the intercom again, grimmer than before.

“We’re going down. I-I can’t control it. I’m sorry. Hold on.”

Everything inside me locked up. I turned to the window, my stomach twisting into a tight, unbearable knot. The clouds rushed past us, and the ground was getting closer—mountains, snow.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

At that moment, my mind spun with a thousand thoughts.

Dad. The company. Law school. Amanda.

But only one thought settled.

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