The body dropped out of view.
The door was wrenched open.
Nikolai was there, breathing hard, blood smeared across his shirt and hands.He scanned her quickly, eyes sharp, then reached in and unlatched her seatbelt.
“You’re safe,” he said.Calm.Steady.As if the air wasn’t still ringing with gunfire.
Rafael and Mateo appeared seconds later, weapons still up, scanning for threats.
“Pilot’s gone,” Mateo said.“This was a setup.”
Nikolai nodded once.Then he turned back to her.
“I need you to make another decision,” he said gently.
She stared at him, uncomprehending.
He interpreted it without her having to say a word.“Our systems are more compromised than we realized.Rafael and Mateo will take the plane back to Chicago.Mateo is a pilot.It’s still the safest place for them to land.We can go with them, or—” He paused, searching her face.“I can take you somewhere else.Somewhere no one else knows about.”
The choice sat heavy between them.
She didn’t understand everything he was saying.But she understood this.
"Do you want to go with them?"he asked, his expression giving nothing away.
She shook her head once, small but certain.
No Chicago.
Nikolai’s breath left him in a slow, almost soundless exhale.Relief flickered across his face before he could hide it.
“Okay,” he said softly.
He offered his hand.
She took it.
Later—much later—she would think about that look of relief, and what it meant.
For now, all she knew was that she had chosen.
And that he was not letting her go.
****
The road into the Keysalways felt like a slow exhale.
Nine hours of driving had stripped the world down to rhythm and motion—tires humming over asphalt, the steady sweep of sun and shadow across the windshield, the quiet weight of distance putting space between them and everything that could still reach out and hurt her.Kol welcomed the monotony.It let his thoughts settle into order.
Eliza slept beside him.
She had curled slightly toward the door, seatbelt snug across her chest, head tipped just enough that her hair brushed her cheek.She’d fought sleep at first, eyes tracking every movement, every sound, but exhaustion had won somewhere north of the state line.Since then, she’d drifted in and out, never quite sinking deep, but resting all the same.
Kol adjusted the air vents for the third time, angling the cool air away from her face.He drove one-handed, steady and unhurried, eyes scanning mirrors and road with ingrained habit.
They were an hour out from where he’d left the boat.
He’d stopped twice—once for coffee, once for fuel and supplies.He’d taken his time choosing what to bring back to the car, instinct guiding him more than logic.Water first.Electrolytes.Then snacks—sweet, salty, protein.He’d laid them out quietly in the back seat and noticed, without comment, which ones disappeared when she stirred.
