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I grab a barf bag, feeling as if I might fill it.
“We have to go back,” I plead brokenly to the pilots. My voice is weak beneath the deafening thump of rotors. “Please, you have to land. You have to?—”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Alexander. We have orders from the Calloways,” he says firmly.
My heart splinters into painful fragments, my hands trembling violently as I fumble for my phone.
My pulse pounds erratically, panic fogging my vision. I can’t think—I can’t breathe—but instinctively, my fingers move, shaking as I type out a message to Billie.
Harper
Brody’s in danger. Micah found us. Please, send help.
I hit Send, clutching my phone, but an error flashes cruelly across the screen:Message Failed to Send
I realize I have no cell service.
“No …” My voice breaks into a raw sob, and I choke on the anguish rising in my throat. “Come on. Please, please go through.”
I lift my phone higher, moving it around the confined space, but the signal bars remain empty, hopelessly blank. Frustration and despair smother me, leaving me hollow and alone.
Brody’s down there alone, fighting for me, risking everything for us, and I’m helpless to stop it.
What if he’s hurt? What if they shot him?
“Please be okay,” I whisper into the emptiness around me, my voice nothing more than a shattered plea, a prayer to whatever forces might listen. “Please, Brody … be okay.”
Hours pass, and I feel numb, like a shell of myself. My body feels weightless, floating somewhere outside of myself. Inside, my thoughts and the what-ifs unravel faster than I can grasp them. Brody’s face is burned into my mind, determination mixed with something darker. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it only sharpens the image. My pulse throbs so violently in my temples that it hurts.
Why didn’t I fight harder? Why didn’t I insist he stay with me, drag him onto this helicopter myself?
The stark notification on my phone stares back coldly:Message Failed to Send
A sob releases from me. It’s guttural and raw. I blink rapidly, wiping tears from my face, my heart twisting painfully in my chest.
“Please,” I whisper again, clicking the message.
Still nothing—no service, no way to reach Billie, no way to know if Brody’s safe.
A thousand terrifying scenarios flood my mind, each worse than the last. What if Micah hurt him? What if that other figure …
Air catches painfully in my lungs, and I grip the seat belt, my knuckles turning stark white. I battle the surge of helplessness and guilt crashing over me. The city skyline looms closer as the helicopter slices through the air. I can’t explain the soul-deep terror that’s currently tearing me apart. No one could possibly understand the nightmare we narrowly escaped or the even darker one unfolding back at the cabin.
Brody’s words echo suddenly.“I’ll come for you.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, hot with frustration. He made me feel safe, protected. But now he’s back there alone, facing danger without me—because of me.
The helicopter banks, descending rapidly toward the rooftop landing pad at the top of Park Towers. The city rushes closer, a concrete maze, filled with unknown threats, and life feels empty without Brody by my side. Reality sets in that I’m here, and he’s there, completely out of my reach.
As soon as the skids touch solid ground, I unclip my seat belt, my heart pounding. The door slides open, and a blast of cold city wind whooshes through the cabin. I’m already moving, practically stumbling out, my legs weak and unsteady beneath me as I get out.
“Ms. Alexander!” a voice shouts, urgent and concerned. Two men in a suit rush forward, extending a hand to steady me. They’re carrying my bags. “Are you all right?”
I can’t answer. Anxiety grips my throat again, and I shove past him, needing to find Billie, Asher, someone, anyone who can help. My phone finally vibrates in my hand, and I freeze, hope flaring painfully in my chest as I move inside the building. I stand in the hallway, glancing down at my phone, noticing I have three missed calls from Billie, along with texts. I open them.
Billie
Harper, are you okay?