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Nikolai took the seat beside me, slipping off his light coat and suit jacket. Rolling up his sleeves, he revealed strong forearms before leaning toward me, entering my personal space. I froze, holding my breath as he reached down and buckled my seatbelt, adjusting it snugly around my waist. Then, without a word, he leaned back and fastened his own. I took a deep breath, turning my face toward the window to hide the warmth creeping up my cheeks. His scent and presence overwhelmed my senses.

Grigori entered next, greeting the flight attendant who appeared behind the thick curtain at the front of the plane. She secured the door as the engines hummed to life, making me tense in my seat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I wish you all a pleasant flight and thank you for choosing Roman Airlines. I advise you to fasten your seatbelts and inform you that there is one—yes, only one—parachute located at the back of the aircraft for whoever reaches it first in case of an emergency! So, I hope your cardio is up to par!” Roman’s voice suddenly crackled through the speakers.

I blinked in disbelief, my gaze snapping to Nikolai, who simply rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“My cardio is terrible,” I murmured, feeling my stomach drop.

Nikolai glanced down at me for a second before bursting into laughter, making me frown even more.

“Don’t worry,Solnyshko,” he said between chuckles. “Roman is an excellent pilot. He’ll get us there safely. And even if someone had to use that parachute, I’d make sure it was you.”

“I don’t know how to skydive,” I blurted out stupidly, my attention fixated on the way his fingers brushed a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

His smile widened as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead.

“I’ll teach you on the spot, don’t worry,” he murmured, his shoulders shaking again with laughter. And despite myself, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, I felt a smile tug at my lips just as the plane began to move.

Nikolai

I adjusted the blanket over Selina’s curled-up body as she slept, having dozed off a few hours earlier after eating. We were nearing San Francisco—our home base in the United States, where we oversaw all our operations. I had received a call aboutfour hours ago from Sasha, informing me that they had landed safely and were en route to the house, much to my relief. I had decided to wait until Selina woke up before telling her, knowing the news would finally ease some of her anxiety after spending the entire flight worrying about her son and sister.

I frowned, lifting my eyes from my laptop as the plane suddenly shook. Grigori stirred from where he had been dozing, shooting me a concerned look. Another, far stronger jolt made Selina jolt awake with a startled gasp.

“What’s happening?” she asked, disoriented and frightened, clutching my arm.

I took her hand in mine, squeezing gently. “It’s probably just turbulence, don’t worry—”

But Roman’s voice cut through my attempt to reassure her. “Uh, guys… I think we actually need to decide who’s getting that parachute,” he said, his usual cocky tone laced with hesitation.

Roman, hesitating? That wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“Don’t move,” I told Selina before following Grigori toward the cockpit. My brother knocked on the door, and it unlocked quickly, allowing us inside—straight into pure chaos. Several warning lights flashed across the control panel, and the robotic voice of the plane blared out emergency alerts.

“What the hell is going on ?” Grigori growled, gripping the co-pilot’s seat to steady himself as the plane lurched again.

“What’s going on is that our engines are about to give out,” Roman gritted out through clenched teeth, freezing us all in place.

“What do you mean, ‘give out’?” I demanded, leaning over his shoulder as he gestured toward a flashing warning light.

“We’re out of fuel,” he explained. “No fuel, no engines. The amount that was loaded wasn’t nearly enough.”

“How is that possible?” I asked, straightening up as Grigori dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, struggling to stay upright against the plane’s violent shaking. This had been a routine flight for us; our technicians knew the exact fuel requirements. A mistake like this was impossible. Unless it had been deliberate.

“Rasili,” I hissed between clenched teeth.

Grigori looked at me, confused. “Why would he do that? If we crash, Selina dies too.”

“He doesn’t want us to crash,” Roman interjected, grimacing as another warning light flashed. “He wants us to land—but not in San Francisco.”

“With what’s left, we can make an emergency landing at the Fremont airstrip,” he continued, “but we don’t have enough fuel to go any further.”

“They’ve set a trap at the airstrip,” I stated, my jaw tightening. Somehow, that bastard had gotten intel on our flight plan—but he wouldn’t get his hands on Selina. Not today. Not ever.

“What do we do?” Roman asked, glancing at me over his shoulder.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Sasha’s number. Nothing. No signal.