Page 105 of Gilded in Blood

She looks up at me, eyes wide with fear. “I’m scared.”

I cup her face with both hands, forcing her to meet my eyes.

“It’s okay to be scared. But right now, you can’t operate on fear. You have to be brave. I’m going to get us out of this. I promise. But I need you to work with me. Can you do that?”

She takes a shaky breath and nods. “Yes.”

“Good.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “Now we’re going to head back out there and act like nothing is wrong. We’re not going to draw attention to ourselves. I’ll find us tickets to get out of here and back to New York.”

She nods again. “Okay.”

I lean in and kiss her briefly on the lips. Then I take her hand, lacing our fingers together, and we step out of the restroom.

The terminal is busy, people rushing to gates, announcements blaring overhead. I keep my grip on her hand firm but natural, scanning the crowd as we walk.

I head toward the ticket counters, mind already working on the next steps. We need to get out of England fast. And we need to do it without leaving a trail.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Milana

The airport is busy, filled with travelers rushing past us to gates, rolling suitcases clattering across the tiled floors. Flight announcements echoing overhead in multiple languages.

I try my best to blend in, composed and normal, but my head is still spinning. I can’t believe what just happened.

If Kirill hadn’t insisted on checking the jet again, we would have boarded. We would have been on that plane when it exploded. We would be dead right now.

My whole body is still shaking, but I force myself to breathe steadily, gripping Kirill’s hand tighter as we walk. He’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

He leads me toward the ticket counters, his steps purposeful. “Next flight to New York?” he asks the woman behind the desk.

She types quickly on her computer. “The next one is boarding in twenty minutes. But I’m afraid it’s full.”

Kirill doesn’t miss a beat. “What about after that?”

She checks again. “The next available flight is at 6 p.m. this evening.”

I glance at the large clock on the wall. It’s just past 10 a.m. That means we’d have to wait here for almost eight hours. My stomach twists at the thought.

Kirill thanks the woman and pulls me away from the counter, still holding my hand.

“What are we going to do now?” I ask, voice low.

“We can’t wait that long,” he says. “We need to get on that flight leaving in twenty minutes.”

“But she said it’s full.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he scans the area, eyes sharp. Then he spots an elderly couple a little ways away, holding boarding passes, clearly heading toward security.

“Wait here,” he tells me.

I watch as he walks over to them. They look to be in their late sixties, maybe early seventies. The man is holding their carry-on while the woman clutches two boarding passes.

Kirill offers them a polite smile.

“Excuse me. I know this is an unusual request, but I would like to buy those tickets from you.”

The couple exchange a confused glance. “I’m sorry?” the man asks.