Page 143 of The Devil's Thorn
My gaze didn’t shift. “I already know what’s inside.”
He chuckled. “Care to bet on that?”
I finally turned to look at him, voice like ice. “I don’t bet on games I’m rigging.” His eyes flickered. Amused. Impressed. Maybe a little aroused.
The engines began to hum louder beneath us, and a soft jolt moved through the cabin as the jet taxied.
Ash leaned his head back. “You think we’ll get a warm welcome?”
Rafael answered without looking away from me. “That depends entirely on whether they think we’re coming in peace.”
“And are we?” I asked.
He smiled. “Not even close.”
The jet tilted, gaining speed. My fingers curled against the armrest, not from fear—but from anticipation. This wasn’t going to be smooth. It wasn’t meant to be.
But I didn’t want smooth. I wanted answers. I wanted blood. And I was going straight into the heart of it with the devil sitting at my side.
The jet was smooth, barely a tremor as it cut through the clouds like it owned the sky. The low hum of the engines was the only sound between us for a while.
I leaned back in my seat, my fingers tracing along the soft leather armrest, every breath controlled, every nerve still humming from the shift I felt the moment the wheels left the tarmac.
Rafael sat beside me, one leg crossed casually over the other, hands resting loose in his lap. He hadn’t spoken in a few minutes, but the air around him buzzed. It always did. Like even when he was still, his presence wasn’t.
I watched the sky blur past the windows in my periphery.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “what do you think you’ll find in Colombia?”
I didn’t look at him. “Answers.”
“Answers are dangerous things, Isabella. Once you find them, you can’t go back to not knowing.”
“I’m not trying to go back.” That seemed to amuse him. His smile was subtle, but sharp.
About thirty minutes in, Nikolai approached, his expression as unreadable as ever. He leaned slightly toward Rafael, murmured something only he could hear.
Rafael’s body shifted. A sliver of tension. He didn’t argue—just stood up with one last look at me.
“I’ll be back.”
I didn’t answer him. Didn’t follow his gaze as he and Nikolai stepped toward the far end of the jet, disappearing behind one of the panels that led to the conference alcove.
Silence settled again. Ash let out a slow exhale and slouched back in his seat across from me, his legs spread out like he was trying to get comfortable.
Kellan leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his thighs, watching me. “You alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” My voice was cool, measured.
“You say that a lot,” Ash muttered. “Starting to sound like a reflex.”
Before I could answer, the panel near the back of the jet slid open, and a woman stepped out. Blonde, tanned, high ponytail that bounced with every confident step she took in her heels.
Tight black dress. Fake lashes. A smile designed to be remembered. She wheeled a tray of food and drinks with her and stopped in front of us.
“Anything I can get you?” she asked sweetly, though her eyes were locked on Ash.
Ash’s mouth twitched. “Depends what’s on the menu.”
