Page 98 of The Hunter's Empire

Then a second crack tears through the aircraft. The window beside me explodes inward. Glass sprays across the cabin as the jet shudders violently beneath my feet, and the sudden wail of emergency alarms erupt overhead.

This time, the realization slams into me with enough force to steal the breath from my lungs. We're under attack.

Chaos erupts so quickly that it feels impossible to keep up with it. Bullets tear through the fuselage. Metal groans beneath the assault. Wind whistles through shattered sections of the cabin.

The aircraft drops sharply enough to make my stomach lurch, and somewhere through the noise I can hear Aurelia's voice calling my name.

"Zora?" The panic in her voice barely registers.

My survival instincts have already taken over. I throw myself to the floor as another burst of gunfire rips through the cabin. Broken glass cuts into my palms while I crawl toward the cockpit, but I barely feel it. Every thought has narrowed into a single objective.

Find the pilots.

The aircraft continues shaking beneath me as I drag myself forward. The luxurious cabin that felt so peaceful only minutes ago has transformed into a nightmare of flashing lights, screaming alarms, and twisted metal.

By the time I reach the cockpit door, my hands are shaking so badly that I struggle with the handle. The aircraft continues shuddering around me, warning alarms screaming overhead as I finally force the door open.

Whatever hope I had been clinging to dies instantly. Both pilots are dead. One is slumped sideways across the controls while the other hangs motionless in his seat, restrained only by his harness.

Blood is everywhere. It covers the instrument panel, stains the windows, and pools beneath the pilots' bodies. The cockpit windows are riddled with bullet holes, the glass fractured around each impact. They were shot from outside. From the armed jet flying alongside us.

For several seconds, I can do nothing but stare. The sight is horrifying, but that isn't what stops me. It's what the sight means. Nobody is flying the aircraft. Nobody is trying to regain control. The jet is falling out of the sky, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.

The realization settles heavily in my chest, pushing aside every other thought. Up until now, some part of me had still believed there might be a solution waiting ahead. Maybe the pilots had already begun an emergency descent. Maybe someone knew what was happening. Maybe there was still a chance.

There isn't. I'm alone. And unless I find another way out of this aircraft, I'm going to die with it.

Panic surges through me with enough force to make my vision blur. For one dangerous moment, I feel myself freezing beneath the weight of what is happening. Then another thought forces its way through the fear.

The emergency parachute.

I spin around and rush back toward my seat. The aircraft groans around me as though it is being torn apart piece by piece, and the ocean looks far closer than it should. Every second that passes feels stolen. Every second feels like one step closer to death.

By the time I reach the seat, my hands are shaking so badly that I struggle to open the compartment beneath it. For one horrifying moment, I think the parachute isn't there. The possibility nearly crushes me. Then I see it.

Relief hits so hard that my knees nearly give out.

I drag the pack free and begin securing the straps around my body. My fingers fumble repeatedly. The alarms continue screaming overhead while the aircraft continues losing altitude, and all I can think about is moving faster.

The world has narrowed to a single goal.Get out.

The emergency exit is only a few feet away, but it feels impossibly distant as I force myself toward it. Every instinct in my body rebels against what I'm about to do. Human beings are not meant to throw themselves from aircraft. We are not built for it. Some irrational part of my mind keeps insisting there must be another option, another solution, another miracle waiting just around the corner.

There isn't. Staying means dying. Jumping at least gives me a chance.

The handle resists at first, and for one terrible second I think it won't open. Then it finally gives way. The door tears free with wind exploding into the cabin.

The force of it steals the breath from my lungs and nearly throws me backward. I grip the frame and stare out at the vast expanse of ocean below. From this height, the water looks endless. Tiny islands dot the distance like scattered fragments of green surrounded by blue.

I am really about to do this.

Only minutes ago, I was drinking champagne and discussing wedding flowers. Now I am standing inside a dying aircraft preparing to jump into the open sky.

The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh. Instead, I take a breath. Then another. And before fear can convince me otherwise, I jump.

The force of the fall is immediate and brutal. Wind roars past my ears with such violence that it becomes impossible to think clearly. The aircraft disappears above me as I plummet toward the ocean, my heart hammering so hard that every beat feels painful.

When I reach what should be a safe altitude, I grab the cord and pull. The parachute deploys instantly.