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Damn my growling stomach to hell.
And damn how good this sandwich tastes.
Just about anything would suffice right now. There can’t be anything special about this sandwich in particular—in fact, I know there isn’t.
I can’t stop myself from practically inhaling another bite, while my body finally allows me to sink into the chair for the first time since boarding. The taste of sweet turkey, thinly shredded lettuce, perfectly sliced tomato, pickles—the sweet ones of course—and some sort of garlic aioli make me moan with every bite.
If I wasn’t running the potential risk of being poisoned, I’d argue it’s the best sandwich I’d ever had.
“I’m still mad at you.” I lower my chin, talking directly to my stomach.
She has nothing to say now that she’s full and satisfied.
Bitch.
Within minutes, my eyes become heavy, my body finally ready to rest after the hours of strain I’ve put it through. Getting ahead of myself, I unbuckle my seatbelt and head to the restroom so I don’t have to get up for the rest of the flight.
The plane is quiet. Both attendants have made their way to the back, leaving a clear path from my seat to the front of the plane.
When I’m at the door, hues of green, blue, and red illuminate the small enclosure of the cockpit in my peripheral. Jett and his co-pilot sit with pristine posture, gliding and steering us through the pitch-black sky.
Mesmerized, I can’t help but quietly watch.
Something about the fact that he just ordered me around, and now he’s operating this complicated machine to get us to the next destination, is frustratingly compelling.
A scornful chuckle slips past my lips as I push open the bathroom door.
Snap the fuck out of it, Fia.
To anyone else, I’d say thank you. Contrary to what Jett may believe, I have manners. I just don’t prefer to use them with him. Even if it’s the right thing to do, I can’t seem to find the words. They must be lodged deep in my stomach with the rest of the sandwich.
Opening the door with a silent prayer, I hurriedly exit, rounding the small corner, but I’m not quick enough.
“Did you eat it?” he asks, voice low and deep. The shadow of his body feels both ethereal and sinister.
I stand frozen in place. Partially to see if I’m hallucinating, but mainly because his deep rumble has my feet nailed to the floor.
I don’t answer, so he asks again. This time, his voice is edged with a command. “Answer me, Sofia.”
A chill that’s foreign, and fucking unwanted, skates across my arms and up the back of my neck at the way he uses my legal name just to spite.
“Yes,” I whisper through gritted teeth.
“Good choice.” He couldn’t sound more condescending.
Rolling my eyes, I ignore the whirl in my stomach that won’t go away, chalking it up to irritation about the insufferable man flying our plane.
It doesn’t take long for me to drift off once I’m back in my seat. Even still, the chaos I’m living in doesn’t hold a candle to the nightmare that plays on a loop the moment I close my eyes.
The muffled chime of the cabin forces me to stir in my seat.
“I’m sorry to wake you if you’re in the middle of a slumber; however, it is my pleasure to welcome you to Chicago. I hope you enjoyed your flight, and thank you for flying Greenway.”
His announcement forces me to sit taller, unclenching my tightened palms as his voice does something to calm the tension I know came from what I saw in my sleep.
One of his attendants follows, and I finally relax a little.
“The time is currently, three-thirty a.m. The forecast is clear for the next few days, and as always, I want to thank you for flying Greenway. I appreciate your patience with the delay and look forward to seeing you again in a few short days.”
