Page 63 of Mile High Ruin

“You need rest.”

“I can rest in the crew seat.”

“You can sleep here.”

She folds her arms. It seems to require effort, because her hands are still trembling slightly. “You can’t simply decide that.”

“I own the aircraft.”

Her expression becomes incredulous. “That doesn’t mean you own everyone on it.”

“No, but it means I decide who uses this room.”

“That is an extremely convenient interpretation.”

“I’m known for those.”

She stares at me. I stare back. And after perhaps ten seconds, she realizes I have no intention of changing my mind.

“I hate how much you enjoy ordering people around.”

“I don’t enjoy ordering everyone around.”

“Just me?”

“Currently.”

She rolls her eyes. The sight pleases me far more than it should.

“Lie down,” I tell her.

“I’m not tired.”

Her eyelids look heavy enough to contradict her before I can.

“Sloane.”

“Oh God.”

“That is not my name.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you are lying down.”

She mutters something I don’t catch, but she moves further onto the bed.

Victory.

Small, ridiculous victory, but I feel it nonetheless.

She removes her shoes and pulls her legs onto the mattress, then pauses. “My bag.”

“What about it?”

“I need something from it.”

“I will bring it.”