Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
No.
Not light.
White.
There’s a wall of fog so thick the sun can never hope to pierce it.
At first, I think it’s the altitude—that we’re soaring among stubborn clouds that refuse to part for us—but the fog seems sentient. Angry and vengeful. It knocks the plane around, growing more violent the longer we stay. After a while, it doesn’t feel like mere turbulence.
Tyler bursts through the bedroom door without knocking, and I don’t even think to be embarrassed about my lack of clothing.
Something is very, very wrong.
“What is it?” I groggily ask as I sit up. “What’s happening?”
“Get dressed and come to the front,” he orders. He makes a good attempt at sounding calm, but his voice is edged with fear and panic.
“Tyler, what is happening?” I demand again.
The plane suddenly dips, and for a long, heart-stopping moment, I think we’re dropping out of the sky. My stomach reacts so forcibly that it feels like it touches my spine.
Tyler curses when I’m thrown to the side and tumble off the bed. He rushes over to help me from the floor and only lets go when he’s sure I’m steady on my feet.
“We crossed paths with a rogue storm, and it’s bad,” he explains. “The captain is trying to make an emergency landing.”
“In that?” I shriek, throwing an arm toward the window. “How? I can’t see anything.”
“That’s why you need—” A violent updraft cuts him off. We both lose our balance when we’re thrown off our feet—me backward and Tyler forward. When he lands on me, his weight steals my breath. “Get out front!” he yells once the plane rights itself, and he’s back on his feet.
Ty’s gone before I can beg him not to leave me, so I do what he says, swiping my dress from the floor. Tyler had left the door open, so I can see the rest of the plane as I struggle to get into my dress.
It’s chaos in the cabin.
Cassie is screaming, at least two of my guards are vomiting, and I can hear alarms blaring from the open cockpit.
Tyler stumbles to the front of the plane to check on Cassie, who blacks out by the time he reaches her. Shoving his hand underneath the scarf still around her neck, he checks her pulse. His face is tight when he turns around, but there’s no trace of devastation.
She’s still alive, at least.
There’s resolve in Tyler’s eyes as he fights his way back to me, but it doesn’t make me feel safer.
This is bad.
The plane pitches to the side while I try to tug on one of my boots. I lose sight of Tyler as I roll and collide with the wall. The impact is hard enough to stun me, but I shake it off and crawl the short distance to rescue my other boot from under the bed.
I don’t even know why I bother if I’m going to die. I guess because all I can think about even now is the headlines and what they’ll say when they find my body.
It’s pitiful.
“Aurelia!” Tyler yells from the cabin, demanding I light a fire under my ass.
I carefully regain my feet and stumble out of the stateroom. The cabin is loud. The engines are screaming from the exertion it takes to keep us in the air. Through the windows, I can see more white. I can see the wind swirling around, and it takes me a second longer to realize it’s…snow.
A blizzard?
We flew into a freaking blizzard?
Tyler manages to make his way to the rear of the plane again and holds out a hand for me.
I reach for his hand, and it feels like some invisible force keeps us apart. I stretch my arm until it hurts, but no matter how hard I try, my fingers never do more than graze his.
Finally, Ty’s fingers curl around mine, and he grits his teeth from the strength it takes to tug me to him. The moment I fall into his arms, I hear a terrible screech and then the sound of metal scraping like it’s tearing itself apart.
Oh, God.
“Tyler!” I scream to warn him.
“You need to get strapped in now!” He helps me into the nearest seat, and I scramble to buckle the belt. There’s only a sofa across the aisle perpendicular to me, so it costs Ty precious seconds to reach the nearest empty seat closer to the front of the plane.
I want to close my eyes as if that will dull the terrifying roar throughout the cabin, but I can’t—not until I’m sure Tyler is safe.
He feels a million miles away when he finally takes his seat. I don’t see if he gets his seat belt on because something hits the plane in a rapid barrage.
It sounds like the plane is being shot at.
Hail. It’s what’s pelting the plane.
The lights in the cabin flicker off, and more alarms start blaring all around me.