Page 37 of Fight or Fly

“I really need to use the bathroom. Is that allowed?” I asked, doing my best to look unthreatening. Not a stretch, really.

He beckoned to another of the soldiers, who came and joined him in the aisle. The second man removed a small keychain from his pocket and leaned down, unlatching my cuffs.

I rubbed at my wrist, rising on wobbly legs as the new soldier stepped back to give me space. He gestured toward the rear of the plane.

Jax rattled his cuffs again. “Touch her, and I’ll see you dead, even if I have to crash this plane to do it,” he said, his tone murderous.

It hit me rather abruptly that Jax was...not okay. Which, I mean,fair enough. None of us were okay. I was still functioning because the situation hadn’t hit me properly yet. And Kam only went to piecesaftera crisis; neverduringa crisis.

“It’s all right,” I told Jax softly, begging him with my eyes not to provoke our captors. “If they wanted to hurt us, they’d have done it already.”

This was the Committee, after all. The torture and death would come later.

The thought sent my balance slewing sideways for a second. I grasped the chair back and steadied myself, allowing the soldier who’d uncuffed me to usher me past the rows of uniformed beta males. Their eyes were a heavy weight on me, but none of them raised a hand or spoke a word as I squeezed past them in the narrow aisle.

The bathroom was barely big enough to sit down, and my guard didn’t blink an eye when I closed the door and engaged the privacy lock. When I was done, I washed my hands and splashed water on my face from the tiny sink, then straightened my shoulders and exited. The guard led me back to my seat, where the man with the burned face still stood watch over Jax and Kam. Once I was handcuffed again, they both left, returning to their seats without a word.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Kam said in a low voice.

There was little doubt that the closest soldiers would be able to hear us, but they didn’t show any indication that they cared whether we talked to each other or not.

“No,” I agreed. “It should have been Enoch Sloane’s operation. Why is the Euro-Soviet branch poaching on UFNA territory?”

“Turf wars,” Jax muttered, still looking like he’d enjoy nothing better than getting free and ripping out some spines.

I traded a considering glance with Kam. It was an open secret that Kostya Nikolayev, the head of the Euro-Soviet branch, was locked in a power struggle with Enoch Sloane.

“Maybe,” I allowed.

“Too bad that doesn’t really help us,” Kam said.

Unfortunately, I had to agree with him.

* * *

When the plane finallybanked some time later, making a final approach for landing, Kam peered through the window, craning to look down. “That’s Cuba, I’m pretty sure,” he said, his brow furrowing. “We passed over the Florida Keys not long ago.”

I stretched, crowding against him to get a look as well. Based on the long, narrow shape of the island, he was right. We were heading for the one of the southeastern provinces—a green and mountainous stretch of land. With a sudden ache in my heart, I realized that I was, at this moment, only five hundred miles or so away from my parents in Kingston—separated by nothing but a tiny expanse of salt water.

Hi, Mom and Dad.

Bye, Mom and Dad.

“Cuba has strong Russian ties,” Jax said.

“Makes sense,” I replied. The island nation had so far managed to avoid being snapped up by the United Federation of North America as either a territory or a protectorate. They’d done that by playing footsie with the Soviets, who were more than happy to have an ally located a scant hundred miles off the coastline of their rival on the world stage.

My insides rose unpleasantly as the plane shed altitude. The runway where we eventually touched down was a bit bumpy, but serviceable—obviously a private airfield, though an expensive one based on the size. Mountain slopes draped in vibrant green tropical forest vegetation surrounded the narrow valley containing the airstrip. The plane taxied to a stop in front of a hangar with corrugated metal siding, where several black, official looking vehicles waited next to an army truck with canvas covering the back.

The sound of the men behind us unlatching their seatbelts dragged my attention away from the window. Four of them approached us, including the two who’d been up here earlier to give me water and take me to the bathroom.

“This is what will happen next,” said the one who seemed to be in charge. His eyes settled on Jax. “You will all be taken to a vehicle and transferred to a holding facility for processing. Two guards will escort your omega companions, with guns trained on them the whole time. If you attempt to resist or escape, they will shoot. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jax said, his eyes promising bloody vengeance at some unspecified future date.

My heart sped up, tripping over itself at the thought that we would soon be separated. And then, the real horrors would begin. The panic that had been lurking beneath the surface of my thoughts rippled, threatening to surge up and swallow me.

Would it be better to end it here? To fight back, and provoke them into shooting all three of us? But... I couldn’t watch as Kam and Jax were shot down, their lives bleeding onto the ground in front of me. Icouldn’t.

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