Page 66 of One of Them

“I won’t forget it.”

“Be careful.”

Under-prepared, that’s what I was. How did I become the hunted?

Getting a grip on the anxiety flooding my brain, I flagged down the first taxi to take me to the apartment, where I gathered necessities before rushing to the provided address.

The private airstrip was deserted at this ungodly hour. The sun was barely in sight when I entered the check-in area, where a familiar face awaited me.

My head shook in a frenzy, careful not to attract attention.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I murmured, slapping the man’s chest.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said casually. “I am flying back to Italy on an urgent business. But you see, I had one too many last night, so I brought a hot date on board.” With a wink and a smile, he added, “Jenna or Katie, I can’t recall, but I’m sure the check-in lady will know all her details.”

A sigh of relief escaped me.

Enzo didn’t waste any time picking me up and carrying me toward the jet while I used his body to cover my face.

He was the one I could always count on. It was time to repay him for all the good he had done for me.

“Thank you,” I whispered to his neck.

In the distance, the private aircraft, my means of the great escape, awaited us. This wasn’t forever. Just for a little while.

While the crew rushed the preparations for the takeoff, we sat in the comfy seats. Maxim’s leather jacket stolen from the car kept me warm. I wasn’t ready to take it off. Not yet. I refused to analyze what that meant.

An hour ago, I crossed him out, crossed them all out. Out of paranoia or fear for their immediate safety. It had to be this way. For now, or forever, that remained unclear.

Up in the clouds, I recapped all that had happened in the recent hours.

Enzo paid close attention, clinging to every word, and hearing the story out loud put things into perspective.

In need of a moment, I turned to stare out the window. The clouds wrapped around the aircraft, and I imagined what it must be like to free-fall through them.

Would it feel freeing? Or mediocre, knowing it was short-lived?

Taking our silence as her cue, the flight attendant brought us refreshments and cold drinks. When she retired back to the front of the plane, Enzo asked the important question. “What are you going to do?”

“I need a minute to think,” I admitted. My mind was spinning, but somewhere at the core, a plan was forming.

“You pointed a gun at the Pakhan and made it out alive.”

Realizing I left out an important part, I expanded, “I might have fired at him, too.”

Enzo stared at me, his expression filled with pride. “On top of that, you refused a direct order and a million other reasons they’ll demand your head for.”

“Fuck his order,” I spat, shooting to my feet. “What did he expect me to do? Nod silently and let Malek whisk me away to his Russian fortress, where I’d be locked up for the rest of my life?”

A shiver ran through me.

“Play a docile wife, bear him little ones so he and Ilya can stay in power?” At my expense.

I paced the aisle of the plane, stomping loudly. The flight attendant peaked from behind the curtain, concerned, but Enzo dismissed her with a wave.

When it all dawned on me, I added the crucial piece. “Malek never saw me for who I am. I let him close, and his obsession will cost us all.”

There it was: the truth and the partial blame.

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