1
Layla
White wings.
Everywhere.
In the cockpit. The aisles. Next to me.
But not behind me. No, my wings were black. Something everyone else on this plane had made abundantly clear when they strapped me into this damn chair.
No trial.
No questions.
No chance to ask for remorse.
Just an old guard—whom I once considered a friend—showing up to deliver a sentence.
Noir Reformatory.
My fate.
The plane’s engines thrummed in time with my pulse. Fast. Hard. Terrifyinglyloud. I couldn’t control it, my heart fluttering inside my chest with the fury of a thousand wings.
Every part of me shook from head to toe.
Including my legs, something I realized when Auric’s hot palm landed on my bare skin.
He shoved my thigh down, ceasing the nervous motion, and glared at me from behind a curtain of long blond strands. “Deal with your emotions, Princess. Or I’ll deal with them for you.”
Electricity danced along my limbs.
I used to crave Auric’s touch.
Not anymore. Not since he was assigned as my personal warrior guard on this mission toreform.
I jerked my leg free from his hard fingers and scooted as far away from him as I could. Which wasn’t far, thanks to the strap securing me and my black wings to my seat.
How is this my life?I wondered for the millionth time.What have I done to deserve this?
Auric blew out a long-suffering breath, his flinty, turquoise gaze leveled at the armed guards near the front of the plane. I could feel his irritation as plainly as I could smell his evergreen scent. It wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
A complete contradiction.
He was harsh, cold, and dismissive.
Yet he reminded me of home.
The duality was maddening.
“I’ve done nothing wrong, Auric,” I said for probably the hundredth time. “Come on. Youknowme. This is all some sort of mistake.”
He rolled his head on the seat rest to look at me. So beautiful with his smooth, unblemished skin, those delicate blond strands of hair, and an angular face that looked as if the gods themselves had sculpted every valley. But his expression remained remote. As distant as if the entire ocean beneath the plane separated us rather than six inches of battered vinyl seat.
He said nothing and looked away again. Dismissing me. Ignoring me. Not believing me. Just like everyone else.
My throat tightened.
