Page 96 of Mile High Heist

Numbly, I turned and walked aimlessly away from the cockpit. I ghosted for miles and miles, or what felt like miles, as I replayed it again. And again.

Gun. Lightning. Blood.

Vaguely, I heard someone gasp, and someone else stumbled out of my path. I knew that was bad, but I couldn’t remember why.

Lucille was dead.

Dead, dead.

And then.

“Liv?”

Impossibly hot hands cupped my face, his touch like fire on my shock-chilled skin. My eyes flicked up, and Jax’s face filled my vision, his wide, furious eyes chasing away the ghosts.

“What the fuck happened?” His hands moved, patting me down. “Is this yours? Are you bleeding? Princ—Liv. Liv, look at me.”

I did.

And that was when I finally screamed.

26

MADOC

“She’s in shock.”

Jax looked at me like I’d spoken in tongues. Then he looked back at Olivia, who had screamed herself hoarse and was now staring at nothing. Feeling nothing.

Apathy. My familiar foe.

It was strange seeing it on someone else. All the color had drained from her face. Her mouth was soft. There was blood on her lips, and that made the sickness inside me rattle.

“Liv.” Jax was shaking her. She shook and shook. “Liv. Come on. Use words.”

That wouldn’t work. She was too far gone. Her mind had built a fortress, an automatic defense against whatever trauma she’d just experienced. If she was lucky, it would last a few hours. If she was super-duper lucky, it would last a lifetime.

Jax grabbed her face again, then her shoulders. His expression hardened. “Fuck this.” He swung her up into his arms and carried her back to the suite. I followed the blood, casting my eyes over any passenger who dared intervene. None did. Enough strange things had happened on this flight that people were resigned to it.

In the suite, Jax placed her on the bed, where she sat, hands limp in her lap. She stared through me. I didn’t like that.

“What do we do?” Jax asked, just as the puppy nosed in behind me. Ryle was an emotional sponge. He took one look at her and immediately fussed.

“Jesus Christ. What happened?” He rushed to the bed, reaching out to touch her. To shake her again.

I moved.

I moved before I’d made the conscious decision to do it. That was unlike me. I was always in control.

I grabbed the back of Ryle’s shirt and ripped him away from the bed. He stumbled over his feet, cursing. “Madoc! What the hell, dude?”

“No more touching.”

Ryle straightened with a huff. “I wasn’t going to fucking molest her. I was just feeling—”

That was the wrong word.

The M word.