The private jet shuddered violently as it slammed into a wall of thunderclouds over the Pacific. Outside the narrow windows, the midnight sky was a pitch-black abyss, torn apart by jagged streaks of lightning. Inside, the cabin was dead silent except for the deafening roar of the twin engines fighting the storm.
I sat in the command seat, my eyes fixed on the radar screen. My knuckles were white, my fingers wrapped so tightly around the grip of my rifle that my hand felt numb. Every second we spent in the air felt like a physical blow to my chest. Two days. Two days without Chloe, and the pressure building inside my head was enough to drive me insane. I already lost her once but not again.The anger had long passed the point of shouting; it had turned into something cold, heavy, and lethal.
