Page 6 of Dark Rebel's Fortune

"Still, thank you," Kyra insisted.

"Okay, people," Yamanu said. "We can continue chatting on board."

As the team began boarding, each carrying their personal gear, Max hung back with Kyra, allowing the others to go ahead.

"Nervous?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, but not about the mission per se," she said. "I've done extractions before, which were much more complicated than getting civilians out of their homes. Also, we have a good team with extraordinary abilities in addition to good intelligence." She paused, her fingers unconsciously reaching for her pendant again. "I'm more concerned about my sisters' reactions and whether they'll come with us willingly or fight us so we don't take the rest of the children."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Max said. "There is no point in speculating about the unknown, right?"

"I know it's pointless, but I can't help it." Kyra started up the stairs.

Max followed her into the jet's spacious cabin.

It wasn't nearly as luxurious as Kalugal's, but it was still quite nice compared to a commercial aircraft. The clan's private jet was configured for both comfort and functionality, with seating arranged in conversational groupings and side panels that could be pulled out and turned into tables or desks.

Max led Kyra to a pair of seats near the middle of the cabin. "These are the most comfortable," he explained, stowing their bags in the overhead compartment. "And they can recline fully if you want to get some rest during the flight."

"How long until we reach Tehran?" she asked, buckling herself in.

"About fifteen hours, give or take." Max settled into the seat beside her. "We'll make one refueling stop where the clan has arrangements." He gave her a sidelong glance. "You should try to get some sleep during the flight so you'll be sharp and ready when we land."

"I doubt I could sleep," Kyra admitted. "I'm pumped with too much adrenaline."

"I could sing to you again," he offered with a half-smile. "Or we can do it together." He pulled out his phone. "I have a karaoke playlist we can sing along to."

"Maybe later." She adjusted her seatbelt and reclined her seat by a few degrees.

The engines increased in pitch as the pilot prepared for takeoff.

"Have you ever flown before?" Max asked. "I mean before we rescued you and the others?"

Kyra shook her head. "Not that I remember, but I had to, if you think about it. I didn't swim to America when I came to study here, right? And I didn't swim back to Iran." She gazed out the window as the jet began to taxi. "It's strange, having this big gap in my life. Sometimes I feel like I'm living someone else's story."

The raw honesty in her voice touched Max. He reached over for her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "You're living your story now," he said. "And from where I'm sitting, it's a pretty amazing one."

She turned to him, her amber-gold eyes meeting his, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the mission, the jet, the team. There was only Kyra, with her quiet strength and fierce determination, looking at him as if he might hold answers to questions she hadn't even formed yet.

"You're good at that, you know," she said finally.

"At what?"

"Saying the right things." She squeezed his hand. "It's annoying, actually. Makes you irresistible."

Max laughed. "I'd say that it was five centuries of practice and my natural charm, but the truth is that I'm like that only around you."

"Don't push it with fishing for compliments," she warned, but there was humor in her eyes.

"It's true," he insisted. "Ask Yamanu. He'll tell you how much of an ass I am."

She patted his hand. "I doubt that."

The jet accelerated down the runway, the force of takeoff pressing them back into their seats. Kyra's grip on his hand tightened slightly, but her expression remained calm as the ground fell away beneath them.

As they climbed into the sky, Max studied Kyra's profile—the proud line of her jaw, the slight furrow between her brows, the subtle curve of her lips. He was struck again by how quickly and completely she had inserted herself into his life, as if the Fates had carved out a Kyra-shaped space that had just been waiting there all along for her to fill it.

He'd lived long enough to recognize when something significant was happening, and this thing growing between them was monumental. It wasn't just physical attraction, though there was plenty of that. And it wasn't the shared adrenaline rush of going together on a mission, though that certainly strengthened their connection.

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