Page 133 of Jaded Soul (Kovalyov Bratva 3)

I glance back over my shoulder, but I know I won’t see Donal again. He has a talent for blending into crowds and disappearing. It’s part of why he’s good at what he does.

Which begs the question: what do I do now?

Who am I without my clan? Without my brothers? Without my Ireland?

The answer: I don’t fucking know.

I weave through the airport aimlessly before I finally stumble across the gate where my flight is scheduled to take off.

I check my ticket again and step up to clear the last hurdle. The last tether binding me to my homeland.

The hostess at the gate gives me a bubbly smile as I hand over my passport and ticket.

She glances over it, looks at my face, and then back down again to my passport.

“You’ve changed a little,” she remarks. But there’s no suspicion on her face. Just pleasant idleness.

I notice four cops sweep by behind me, but I keep my head purposefully averted.

“It was taken a while ago.”

She hands back my documents and waves me through.

Only once I’m on the flight do I allow myself to relax a little. Still, I keep my eyes open and my ears peeled. The other passengers board, settle in.

I don’t talk to anyone or even glance up. Nothing is certain yet.

Minutes tick past. We’re on the tarmac for so long that I start to get nervous.

But then the pilot comes on the speaker and apologizes for the delay. The flight attendants start their safety spiel.

I ignore it all and shut out the world until the plane takes off. And the moment we’re cruising through the clouds, I start losing myself to sleep.

But just before I succumb to it, a thought crosses my mind.

I should look out the window.

One last look at the only home I’ve ever known.

One last look at Ireland.

One last look at Saoirse, wherever she may be.

But I don’t.

There’s nothing but heartbreak down there. It’s not my home anymore.

It’s not anything.

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