Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Will we crash? Is that what Piero planned?
The flight attendant’s gone back to adjusting snacks and beverages at the front of the plane. I clear my throat to get her attention.
“Yes?”
“Um. Have you…” It’s risky, asking for any information. I don’t know if she’s in league with the Regazzas or the Rossis or anyone. “Have you spoken to Piero?”
She holds my gaze a half a second too long for my comfort, and her smile seems a bit colder. “Not since we left. Why?”
“Oh,” I say, feigning nonchalance. “No reason.”
She goes back to her preparations without another word. My stomach plummets with the turbulence, before I realize we’re heading downward, the nose of the plane tipping forward. I gasp.
“Nothing to worry about, Elise,” she says casually. “Surely you’re not afraid? You’re the bravest flyer I’ve ever met. We’re only preparing to land.”
I breathe in deeply, then release a breath. My chest expands and deflates. I decide it’s best not to reply, as I watch the clouds zoom past the windows like lightning, and my stomach hits my shoes.
I text Elise.
Me: Did you talk to Piero? What’s his plan?
No response. I wait another half a minute and still, nothing.
Me: Hello? Yoo-hoo. Elise? Babe, we’re about to land… or crash… and I don’t know what’s happening next.
Nothing.
My stomach clenches when we hit a particularly rough patch. I close my eyes and try to remember how to breathe through my nose. We’re going to crash. I know it.
I text Elise again, but there’s no response. Oh God, I hope she’s okay. I don’t know what her father is capable of and wouldn’t put it past him to hurt her. I try to put my troubled mind at rest, but the next bout of turbulence makes me whimper out loud.
“Breathe,” the flight attendant says. I didn’t even realize she’s at my side. She leans in and murmurs in my ear. “The pilot doesn’t know who you are. I do. I’ve escorted Elise on many flights, and you may look like her from afar, but you’re not Elise.”
Shit. I breathe in through my nose, too petrified of the looming crash to worry about what she’s telling me.
“Piero paid me to help you escape, but then you’re on your own. I’ve already gone above and beyond the call of duty.”
I nod wordlessly, for if I open my mouth, I’m going to be sick, and throwing up on the only advocate I have is probably a terrible mistake.
“We’re not going to really crash. It’s too unpredictable. We’re calling it a rocky landing, and it will cause enough distraction for you to get away.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, as my heart beats faster. “But listen to me. You are on your own. You get me?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“Good.”
The plane dips again, and I realize for the first time I can actually see the ground below us. I close my eyes so I don’t see and tell myself I’m just elevating, elevating, and no one will hurt me. I can get through this. I’ve gotten through so much more than this.
“When the plane hits, you get to the exit, and you run.”
I nod, but don’t look at her, my eyes still closed tightly against the pounding in my ears.
She curses under her breath in Italian, and even though my Italian isn’t the best, I swear I hear her say something about stupid little girl. But I don’t have time to be affronted, because the next bit of turbulence rocks me to my very core.
“Hey!” she yells. “You don’t have to make it so—” But she never completes her sentence. The plane’s dragged down, then up, and we’re both screaming as we’re tossed about like ice in a blender. I grit my teeth, too scared to make a sound, and when we hit, something smacks my head. And everything comes to a stuttering halt.
“I got her.” A deep, masculine voice with an edge of a rasp in it. “She’s over here.”
“You got the pilot? Flight attendant?”
“Yeah, they’re fine.”
I try to open my eyes, but they’re so heavy. I’m enveloped in the smell of leather and pine, warm in the back of—
I sit up, and my head hits the back of the seat. I wince on impact. Oh, God. I’m in someone’s car and I’m being taken somewhere.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I try to open my mouth, but it won’t work. Something’s wrapped up against my head. Whoever’s driving this thing drives like a bat out of hell, every rock and divot in the road making us lurch and lunge.
“Stop, oh my God,” I manage to mutter, and the driver almost crashes the car. He flinches as if struck.
“My God, when did you come to?”
My stomach quivers uneasily. “I… Just now, I guess. Where am I?”
This isn’t how this was supposed to go. We were supposed to fake a crash, and I was going to escape.