Chapter 58
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Sinclair Dominion HQ | Private Airstrip
Early Morning
The tarmac was cold and wide under the pale wash of dawn. Frost clung to the edges of the concrete, but the engines of the private jet hummed low, sending out tendrils of warmth and noise that broke the stillness.
Ash and Vex stood near the rear of the plane, unloading the last of Kristina and Eli’s bags from the transport. Vex was arguing with the flight crew about weight distribution like he actually worked there. Ash had one boot up on a metal crate, arms crossed, watching with sleepy amusement.
Sebastian carried the final bag up the ramp, jaw tight, eyes scanning the airstrip like he didn’t trust the morning to stay quiet.
Near the base of the stairs, Lucian, Eli, and Kristina stood together—though not exactly close.
Kristina had stepped away for a moment, crouched beside one of the smaller bags, checking its lock. She pulled the zipper taut, tested it once, then handed it off to Sebastian without looking up.
Lucian turned to Eli.
“You remember the briefing,” Lucian said quietly.
Eli nodded, eyes fixed somewhere in the near distance.
“Stick to the plan. Don’t engage more than you have to. And if it shifts—”
“I know,” Eli cut in. “We pull out before they force our hand.”
Lucian’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’m trusting you with more than intel.”
Eli’s jaw shifted. “I know that, too.”
Lucian studied him for a breath longer, then gave a single nod.
Eli stepped back—just far enough to give them space. He stepped just far enough to turn his shoulder, to occupy the moment without being inside it.
Kristina rose and came back to Lucian, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she approached.
He looked at her.
Neither of them spoke at first.
Then, gently: “Last chance to change your mind.”
Kristina shook her head once. “I’m sure.”
Lucian’s eyes flicked over her face. “I don’t doubt that.”
He stepped closer, the early light catching at the frost in his hair. His voice was low enough not to carry.
“You know how this works. You’ll be watched the moment you land. If anything shifts—even slightly—”
“I’ll know,” she said.
He didn’t ask her to be careful. He didn’t ask her not to get hurt. He just nodded once and leaned in.
The kiss was brief. Soft. Familiar.
But final, in a way that Eli couldn’t ignore.
From a few steps away, he turned his head, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the shadows beneath the plane. It wasn’t jealousy—not exactly. It was something quieter. Older. The ache of knowing something true, and choosing not to interfere with it.
When Kristina stepped back, Lucian’s hand lingered at her elbow for a second longer before letting go.
“Go,” he said. Not an order. Not a plea. Just… release.
Kristina turned toward the stairs. Eli was already moving to meet her.
She didn’t say anything as she passed him—but her shoulder brushed his as they stepped onto the ramp together, and that quiet contact said enough.
Lucian didn’t watch them board.
He already knew what he’d just let happen.
En Route to Zurich | Sinclair Jet
The engines thrummed with a steady, low roar—soothing, almost. The kind of sound that might have lulled her to sleep if her thoughts weren’t louder.
Kristina sat by the window, seat reclined just enough to feign comfort. Her coat was folded neatly on her lap, fingers resting atop it—still, but not relaxed. Across from her, Eli had his arms crossed, one leg bent, heel resting on the edge of his seat. He hadn’t spoken since takeoff.
Neither had she.
The silence wasn’t hostile. It wasn’t awkward, either. But it wasn’t simple.
Outside, clouds blurred against the glass as the jet climbed above them. Inside, the air was still. Heavy, almost. Not with fear—but with the weight of everything that hadn’t been said.
Kristina turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze.
“You’ve been quiet.”
Eli looked up. “So have you.”
She gave a half-shrug. “Didn’t want to crowd you.”
“That’s funny,” he said, voice low. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Another silence. This one thinner. Edged.
Kristina leaned back, eyes on him now. “Do you regret letting me come?”
Eli’s jaw tightened—just enough to notice. “No.”
He looked away, toward the opposite window. “But I hate that you have to.”
She didn’t argue or remind him this was her choice. He already knew that. Instead, she waited—watching the way his fingers tapped once, then stilled. The way his shoulders stayed tense, even in the comfort of leather seats and controlled air pressure.
“They asked about you,” he said suddenly.
Kristina blinked. “Kessler?”
He nodded. “One of their advisors—I think he was trying to rattle me. Said something about your file being ‘remarkably detailed.’”
Her voice stayed level, but her spine straightened. “What kind of detail?”
“Nothing you don’t already know about yourself.” A pause. “But too much for comfort.”
She let that settle. “So they were already watching me.”
“They watch everyone,” Eli said. “But they study people they think are liabilities. Or leverage.”
Her lips pressed together. “And which one am I?”
Eli looked at her then, and his voice came quiet. Flat. “That’s what I’m afraid they haven’t decided yet.”
The silence stretched. Only the subtle vibration of the cabin filled the space. A steward passed through, offering drinks. Kristina waved him off. Eli didn’t look up.
“Lucian knew all this,” she said after a moment.
“And he still let me come.”
Eli leaned back in his seat, eyes on the ceiling for a beat. “He trusts you.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Do you?”
That landed too cleanly. He looked at her again—really looked.
“Yes,” he said.
She didn’t smile. Didn’t thank him. Just nodded once.
And then, softer: “Do you trust yourself?”
Eli didn’t answer right away.
His voice, when it came, wasn’t guarded. It was honest.
“I trust myself to get you out.”
She studied him.
“To bring me back safe?” she asked.
He held her gaze. “To bring you back at all.”
That was the truest thing he’d said all day. And maybe the hardest.
The cabin dipped slightly—just a shift in altitude, but enough for Kristina’s hand to steady herself on the armrest. Eli’s gaze followed the movement. For a moment, neither of them breathed.
Then she spoke. “You don’t have to protect me from what they did. Or what they might do. I’m not afraid of what they’ll show me.”
He exhaled, slow. “That’s not what I’m protecting you from.”
Their eyes held. Quiet. Tense. Not in conflict—just at a threshold.
Then Kristina looked away, voice soft. “Then tell me.”
“What you are protecting me from.”
Eli hesitated. And then:
That stopped everything.
The sky outside stayed pale and endless. The cabin hummed on.
Kristina looked at him again—long, steady.
“You’re not what scares me,” she said.
And this time, he didn’t look away.
Somewhere over the North Atlantic
Mid Flight
The cabin was quiet.
Kristina had gone to the lavatory a few minutes earlier, leaving Eli alone with his thoughts—and the soft hum of engines lulling the space into a strange kind of stillness.
He didn’t hear the footsteps at first. But he caught the shift in presence when the attendant stopped beside his seat.
“Eli,” she said, tone smooth with practiced ease.
He looked up slowly. “Melissa.”
She smiled. Polished, familiar. The kind of smile that was more suggestion than service. “Didn’t think I’d see you on the manifest again. Zurich trip, huh?”
“Company work,” Eli replied, voice even.
She leaned in slightly. “I remember the last time you flew out here. You weren’t so... corporate back then.”
“I wasn’t.”
Melissa tilted her head. “You were more fun, too.”
Eli didn’t bite. He gave a short exhale and turned back toward the window. “Wasn’t trying to be.”
She didn’t move. “I’m just saying... long flight, private jet, old connections—feels like a waste to let it all go to waste.”
Eli turned to her, finally. Calm. Direct. “Not interested.”
“But you didn’t even hear what I was going to offer.”
“I didn’t have to.”
That should’ve ended it. But she lingered anyway, fingers trailing lightly along the headrest.
Melissa tilted her head. “You’ve never been this cold before.”
Then, with a soft scoff: “Or are you just pretending not to care?”
Eli’s jaw tensed—but before he could speak, another voice cut in.
Cool. Even. Lethal.
“He doesn’t have to pretend,” Kristina said.
Melissa startled and turned.
Kristina stood just behind her—shoulders squared, expression unreadable, arms crossed loosely over her chest. Calm. Unflinching.
Melissa’s lips tightened. “Why are you butting in? Are you his girlfriend or something?”
Kristina’s gaze didn’t waver. “Try touching him again and you’ll know the answer.”
Then, tone smooth as silk and twice as cutting:
“Now—run along, Melissa. And make sure we have enough champagne for the landing. You can serve it from the back of the plane.”
Melissa hesitated, lips parting like she might challenge it. But she didn’t.
She stepped away, heels tapping a retreat down the aisle.
Kristina turned back to Eli, who was watching her with a mix of stunned amusement and something quieter.
Something harder to name.
“You always walk that quietly?” he asked.
“Only when someone’s in my seat.”
He blinked. “You scared her.”
Kristina sank into her chair again, crossing one leg over the other. “Good.”
She picked up her cup of tea like nothing had happened.
But Eli—watching her—felt something shift again in his chest.
It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t relief.
It was the quiet, unapologetic weight of being claimed.
Not with words. Not with rules.
But with a single glance that said: mine.
Possessiveness.
And the ache of being seen.
Fully. Fiercely.
Without room to hide.
Tuesday | January 18, 2011
Zurich Airport (ZRH)
2:00 AM. The private jet touched down on Zurich tarmac with a smooth, final hum—tires kissing asphalt beneath a sky still wrapped in winter dark. The hour was ungodly. The world felt suspended in frost and silence.
Eli ran a hand over his face, trying to will the fatigue away. He wasn’t tired, exactly—just... off-center. Travel did that to him. Travel with Kristina, even more.
Kristina didn’t look tired. She looked alert. Still. Quiet in the way someone gets when they’re conserving energy for something that matters. She’d barely spoken since their confrontation with Melissa hours earlier, but something in her posture told him she was still holding that edge.
A man in a dark coat and earpiece stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Their transport.
Kristina adjusted her coat and grabbed her small carry-on. “Let’s check in with the others before we leave.”
Eli nodded. He pulled out his phone, already lit with notifications despite the local time. Messages from Lucian, Vex, and Sebastian. Most of it was logistics, but the timestamps made things clear:
Lucian had been tracking them the entire flight.
Kristina dialed quickly, already ahead of him on the narrow stairway down to the tarmac. The Zurich air bit against her cheeks, sharp and bracing—but she kept steady.
Lucian picked up after two rings.
“You’ve landed,” he said.
Kristina nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just now. No delays. No issues midair.”
“Good. The car will take you straight to the hotel. Get some rest.” Lucian’s voice, calm and steady—then quieter: “You meet the Kesslers at noon sharp. Zurich time.”
“Understood,” she said. Then, a glance over her shoulder at Eli. “He’s right here.”
She handed Eli the phone without a word.
Eli pressed it to his ear. “We’re good.”
Lucian didn’t respond immediately. Then: “Keep it that way.”
Then, softer—measured. “And keep her close.”
Eli’s brow furrowed. “Yeah.”
But Lucian didn’t let it drop. His voice firmed, like a weight pressing down through the line.
“Eli,” Lucian said. “I mean it. Keep her close.”
Eli’s mouth parted slightly. He wasn’t sure what caught him more off guard—the words themselves, or the way Lucian said them. It wasn’t tactical. It wasn’t protocol.
It sounded almost… personal.
“Just what I said,” Lucian replied, his voice low. Measured. “You’ll understand if things shift.”
There was weight behind it—something unspoken. Something Eli wasn’t ready to name.
He didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he could.
Lucian didn’t wait for a reply. “Check in again at ten. The hotel’s secure, but stay sharp. Both of you.”
Then the line went dead.
Eli lowered the phone, brows still drawn, and looked toward Kristina, already halfway to the car.
He pocketed the phone and crossed the tarmac toward her. The driver—expression blank but professional—opened the door without a word.
Eli ducked inside.
The door shut behind him, muting the cold.
Kristina sat back against the plush leather seat, coat still wrapped tight, her gaze on him.
“Everything okay?”
Eli hesitated, just for a beat. Then nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just tired.”
Back at the estate, Lucian stared at the screen.
A forecast blinked across the top corner.
Thunderstorm expected over Zurich.
He stared through the flicker of static, unmoving.
Some distances are measured in miles. Others, in the silence between heartbeats.
—To be continued.
