Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
We’ve been airborne for two hours.
Instead of turning forward, his gaze stays with me, pulling me in.
He stares and stares, letting time burn between us, incinerating me. He should be taking in all the majestic views. I want to tell him he’s missing it.
But he continues to sit with me, twisted in his seat, his eyes glinting like arctic snow in the sunlight.
I know that look. It says you’re so fucking pretty and I want to sink my teeth in you.
The air in the cabin sprints from my lungs as I stare back.
I can’t see his muscles anymore, but I know how they shift and move when he’s healthy. I know how fucking sexy he looks when he swings an ax and shoots a crossbow and stalks me across the tundra under the northern lights.
I know he’d rather look at me than at any other view in the world. I don’t know what I did to deserve that level of admiration and love, but I respond in kind. This thing we have means as much to me as it does to him.
As our gazes intertwine, I sense a shift in the atmosphere.
A shift that has nothing to do with our eye contact.
My instincts rear, scenting something’s off. Kody feels it, too, and slips his headset back on, swiveling forward.
Leo’s shoulders stiffen, a subtle change. His hands, previously steady on the controls, make urgent adjustments, each movement precise yet tense.
Glancing over, Kody’s eyes flick rapidly between the instruments and the window, a crease forming in his profile.
I follow his gaze, trying to see what he sees.
What is it? What’s wrong?
Nothing beeps or lights up in the cockpit, but silent alarms blare in my head.
Kody stiffens as he leans forward, as if bracing against an invisible force. His profile hardens with a quiet intensity, a mirror to Leo’s focused determination.
My boots tap against the floor, a nervous rhythm I’m entirely aware of. The suspense is killing me.
Leo’s glances outside become more frequent, his eyes scanning the horizon with a vigilance that makes my heart careen off the rails. His lips separate, accommodating the fluctuation in his breathing, and I know something is terribly wrong.
I’m about to unlatch my seat harness and climb into the cockpit when Kody finally glances back at me, his complexion pale as he points at the windshield.
From my seat back here, I can’t see shit.
Then I do.
The skies, so clear just moments ago, start to change.
Clouds gather. From the west, from the south, a darkness creeps in.
An ominous front rolls over the horizon, charged with flashing electricity and advancing at an unnatural speed.
It’s a goddamn ambush.
My heart sinks as the world turns black before our eyes.
The weather was on our side when we took off, lulling us into a false sense of security, a belief that maybe, just this once, luck was on our side.
I should’ve fucking known better.
It’s as if the storm was lying in wait, biding its time until we were far enough from Hoss, too committed to our course to turn back without risking the fuel we conserved for this flight.
Without radar, weather forecasts, or communication with the outside world, we took a risk on the clear skies.
We couldn’t have known.
Don’t freak out. It’s just a storm.
I’ve flown in all kinds of weather—lightning, fog, heavy snow, and rain—and survived.
With an experienced pilot.
Fuck, we need to land.
Now.
Kody and Leo are already on it, leaning toward their windows, their eyes searching the wilderness.
The forest beneath us forms a lush, verdant carpet in every direction, so dense that no patch of earth shows through. The treetops sway gently in the breeze, a deceptive calm that belies what’s coming.
Finding a suitable place to touch down grows more improbable by the second. The tightly packed spruces and uneven ground offer no openings for an emergency landing. None of the rare clearings are large enough, flat enough, or free of obstacles.
Even if we could land, then what? We have no food, and this is the Alaskan bush, still below freezing this time of year. That storm, hidden behind a deceptive curtain of dark clouds, will hit in a monstrous swirl of snow and ice. How would we hunt for food in those conditions?
“Can we go faster? Fairbanks should be close!” My shout bounces off their headsets, unheard.
I continue to watch the passing landscape, hoping to glimpse a bare patch, a riverbank, or even a lake that might offer a potential landing spot. But the reality is a continuous, unyielding forest.
My breaths sharpen into bursting gasps. With each ruthless dip, each unexpected drop, a silent scream builds in my throat.
Leo gives up on finding a clearing and tries to veer us away from the encroaching threat, reversing our path.
Kody twists to look at me, his face drained of color. No words needed. The plane is already shuddering, caught in the clutches of advancing winds.