Page 53 of Blind Prophet

“Oh my god.”

I grit my teeth and block Caroline’s cries.

Which will be a better landing pad? Boulders or water?

“Dorian!”

“Hold on!”

CHAPTER12

CAROLINE

The rocky ground below approaches at breakneck speed, yet somehow, time slows. I mentally catalog details even as fear floods my system. The speed at which the ground approaches. The angle of the helicopter. The protruding veins on the back of Dorian’s hand as he grapples with control. His blank focus: calm, collected, emotionless. I catalog the details with the same analytical process I used while reviewing surveillance footage, but now I’m clocking what might be my final moments.

This is it. I’m going to die.

I joined a black ops group after the CIA, yet I’ll die in my husband’s helicopter. The bitter irony isn’t lost on me—I came to investigate him, and now he might accidentally kill us both.

I knew he should’ve never gotten his pilot’s license.

I told him not to.

It’s tempting fate.

The rich and famous should never get into small planes.

I told him.

His jaw flexes.

A vein in his forehead pulses.

The most handsome man I’ve ever met.

The most infuriating.

But if this is it…at least I’m with him.

I wouldn’t want him to die alone.

I grip the seat.

The ground rushes at us.

I squeeze my eyes closed.

Bam!

Metal crunches.

Glass shatters.

The harness digs into my shoulders. We rock right, then left.

I scream.

In my head? Out loud? I’m not sure.

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