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“I’m a decent guy, promise,” I continue, offering her a reassuring smile. “I have my faults like everyone but deep down all I care about is serving others.” I shrug. ”And the books…it’s just a job.”
Her expression softens, the tension in her shoulders easing. “What do you do when you’re not working?”
”A ton of charity,” I reply and the embarrassment in her eyes increases.
”I’m sorry,” she says, her voice sincere. “I didn’t mean to be rude or make you feel judged.”
I nod, accepting her apology with a warm smile. “I understand your reaction. It’s a heavy topic, but I do my best to keep my books PG.”
She relaxes further, a genuine smile spreading across her face. “What’s your latest one about?”
I reach into my bag and pull out a copy, holding it up for her to see. “It’s about a series of unsolved murders reaching ten years back. I explore the evidence, interview the cops who were involved in the case, that kind of thing.”
Solange takes the book from my hand, her fingers brushing mine. She turns it over, and I watch her eyes widen slightly as she sees my photo on the back cover. “You really are a writer,” she murmurs, a touch of awe in her voice.
I chuckle softly. “Told you.”
She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling with renewed interest. “Did you find anything of importance that might be of help to the cops?”
“I’m not that good,” I laugh, my voice warm. “Besides, it’s not my job to help catch them. Only help educate the public.”
”That’s admirable, I guess,” she muses. Solange hands the book back to me, her smile now genuine and open. The walls she had put up are coming down, brick by brick. Her lips fall open as she’s about to ask another question, but it gets stuck in her throat.
The plane shudders violently again, and I feel the tension ratchet up in the cabin. Solange starts to rise, instinctively moving to perform her duties, to reassure the passengers, to be the composed flight attendant.
"Stay put," I say, my voice firm because there’s no way I’m letting her walk around with the plane shaking this much. She could trip, luggage could fall on her head.
She looks at me, torn between her responsibility and the fear creeping into her eyes. "I have to—”
I grab her wrist, my grip tightening. "If you don't sit your ass down, I'll strangle you.”
Shock flashes across her face, her eyes wide and mouth open in a silent gasp. She doesn't move, the weight of my words pinning her to her seat. The turbulence picks up again, and the plane lurches.
Fuck! Why the fuck does this have to happen now?
Solange's fingers clutch the armrest, knuckles white, her eyes darting around in panic and I fear for her. My own nerves are calm. Earlier I was just pretending to get her to sit next to me, but I didn’t think things would escalate like this. The overhead bins rattle, and the lights flicker ominously. The cabin is filled with the sounds of frightened murmurs and gasps. Another violent jolt throws a passenger's drink into the air, splashing onto the aisle.
The plane feels like it’s being tossed around by a giant, unseen hand. Solange clings to my arm, her nails digging into my skin . The need for me to ground her is palpable in her eyes, sending a thrill through me, despite the chaos around us.
But then the gas masks drop from the ceiling, swaying like pendulums. Fuck! A collective scream rises from the passengers. I seize a mask and place it over Solange's face, her breath coming fast and shallow against the plastic, her eyes wide and bloodshot. I secure my own, the rubber strap tight against my head.
The plane continues to buck and sway, the engines roaring like a beast in agony. People are crying, shouting, praying. Luggage spills from the overhead compartments, tumbling into the aisles. I pull Solange to me, feeling her trembling against me. The masks do little to muffle the panic.
Through the small window, clouds whirl past, thick and dark. The plane dips suddenly, a stomach-churning drop that has everyone screaming again. I know what’s coming. A crash is inevitable.
The turbulence is relentless, each jolt more violent than the last. The screams of the passengers blend with the mechanical groans of the aircraft. Solange buries her face into my shoulder, her body shaking uncontrollably. I tighten my grip on her, my own heart pounding, but a part of me is eerily calm, detached.
This is the moment where all pretenses fall away, where survival instincts take over. The plane bucks one last time, a bone-jarring jolt that makes everything tilt…
4.
Solange
The plane is plummeting, and my heart is in my throat. The force of the descent presses me into my seat, and I can barely breathe. Around me, the cabin is chaos. People are screaming, crying, clutching at each other. The masks now dangle uselessly from the ceiling, swaying with violent motion.
My fingers dig into Asher’s arm, my nails biting into his skin. He holds me close, his chest a solid anchor and I want to weep. The world outside the window is a blur of flashes of lightning, the storm raging around us as we fall.
The engines roar, a deafening sound that vibrates through my bones. The plane lurches again, a sickening drop that makes my stomach flip. I can feel the metal frame shuddering, straining against the forces tearing it apart. Belongings have spilled out on the floor like grotesque confetti.
