Page 153 of What Remains

The door swings open a few seconds later, and I twist around to see Carter. “You okay?” His brows slant over his dark eyes as he braces the interior doorframe. He’s not asking about the landing but my headspace.

I face the windshield, the rain still hammering it, and lean back in the seat. “Yeah,” I breathe out. “I am.”

We taxi dark—no public routing—guided by a private ground channel Gideon arranged. No terminal or cameras. No uniforms waiting with questions, despite the rest of Heathrow flooded with officers after this morning’s cyberattack and fake crash incident.

No safer place for us to be, I suppose. No one’s pushing through the perimeter without a swarm of flashing lights to greet them.

And this time, when I roll out on the op, Gwen will stay grounded. I’m not about to test fate again with her up in the air with me. I only have so many lives, and while I’ll give them all to her, I won’t risk hers along with mine.

Sebastian’s jet touches down on a parallel strip, and he parks alongside us in a hangar. As I half expected, Nash is at the controls.

I trade a quick look with him.

Outflying physics again. I know, I know.

By the time I step back into the cabin, the emotional storm is louder than the weather.

Gwen’s already on her feet and moving around others to get to me. I catch her and pull her in, pressing my nose into her hair. Warm, familiar, safe.

“You did it,” she murmurs, holding me tight.

“You didn’t doubt me, did ya?” I tease.

She raises her head and cups my cheeks, silk skin against my week-old scruff. “No. I just wanted an excuse to tell you how I feel before you saved us all.”

My pulse kicks up a notch. “A near-death confession?”

“I didn’t want fear to be the reason I spoke my mind,” she says softly, “but I couldn’t keep the truth in.”

I ignore all the stares and voices as we have a conversation not meant to be heard by others, but at this point, I don’t care who hears. I have no plans to move a muscle or do any damn thing except keep her in my orbit.

But . . .

Julian and Zoey are out there.

Shit. “Well,” I huff out, “we should⁠—”

“I know. The world has to keep moving.”

“I’d stop it for you if I could,” I rasp.

“I know you would,” she whispers as I fold her into my arms again.

Looking over her shoulder, I lock eyes with her father. He gives me a quiet nod along with a whispered, “Thank you.”

I finally let go of her so she can get back to tracking down Julian and Zoey. She settles in the same spot, and Natasha hands over her laptop just as Sebastian steps in from the stairwell with a grim expression.

Jack comes up alongside me and slaps my shoulder. “Thanks for not making my wife a widow.”

“Yeah, the last thing I ever plan to be is a widow maker.” I side-eye him, then glance at my brother-in-law standing near the cockpit door talking with Sebastian.

“Well, that was fun.” Sebastian clears his throat while tightening the knot of his black tie. “But let’s not do that again anytime soon.”

“Really?” Jesse snorts. “A rough landing is where you draw the line?”

“Like you weren’t sweating bullets,” Jack jests, and Jesse rolls his eyes.

“We clear to deplane into the hangar?” Constantine asks Sebastian, holding up his phone. “I’d like to call my wife.”