Novel & Cerita Flight: A Novel

Mira pressed a softer kiss to Aria’s cheek, whispering, “Be safe, darling.” Aria smiled faintly, but inside her nerves tangled tight. She thought of how different it felt now, leaving the pack not as a prisoner dragged into this world, but as Kieran’s partner. Her anchor. The jet was sleek, masculine, overwhelming in its luxury, dark polished wood, soft leather, chrome accents. She couldn’t stop running her hands over everything, but it didn’t calm the twisting in her gut. She had never flown before. Barely even left the state.

CHAPTER TWO GUNS AND ROSES MARIA PAUL'S POV .......................................................................................... "Ladies and gentleman, flight 562 will be arriving in South carolina shortly.Please put on your seat belts and prepare for landing." My eyes shot open at the sound of the pilot's voice and it took a while for me to register my surroundings and regain proper consciousness. It was not long after a few glances i knew i was on a plane escaping from an hell hole.

But I was never going to admit that. The flight was painfully long. I watched movies, listened to podcasts, munched on the shitty food I was offered on the flight, and pretended to fall asleep. But everything failed miserably. I was really looking forward to seeing Kenz but what if he didn’t feel that way towards me? Everything weighed in my chest like an anvil. I quickly brushed those thoughts off and gazed at the clouds. The city came into close view. Big buildings, lights. Nothing looked familiar. It was indeed a city that never sleeps. The plane landed with a small jolt. People started reaching for their bags despite still being on seat belts.

The books on the shelves burst open, their pages unspooling into ribbons of text that whipped through the cabin. "WARNING: NARRATIVE_UNJUSTIFIED" the plane's computer shrieked. "APPROACHING_THE_BOTTOM_MARGIN." Through the windows the starry sky turned white like a piece of paper rushing up to meet the plane. The skyscrapers of Manhattan lost their shape flattening into bar codes. Elara unbuckled her harness, the sheer force of the descent lifting her body out of the seat. She floated through the storm of loose text sheets, her hand reaching out to grab the iron cockpit door handle.

She was not afraid of Freya Blake or the past. The kitchen was portable. They were taking it home. Cedar Falls was ahead. The flight was long, but the destination was permanent. Aurora closed her eyes, listening to the hum of the plane, carrying the kitchen from far away across the sea.

She just turned her palm over and laced her fingers through mine, her grip warm and sure, like a lifeline handed over without question. I hadn’t said it aloud—not before the flight, not during boarding—but this was my first time flying in almost a decade. And I hated it. Not the flying itself, maybe. But not being in control. The sky didn’t care about nerves or old fears. It held you there, weightless and vulnerable, thousands of feet above anything solid. Makayla’s fingers slid between mine, strong and steady. She turned slightly in her seat, angling her body toward me as if to shield me from something she couldn’t see but instinctively knew was there.

A kick fluttered against her palm—*alive, alive, alive. The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Ma’am, we’ve got company.” She jerked upright. Through the clouds, a black jet loomed, its tail emblazoned with the Vanclair crest. The co-pilot screamed. “They’re locking onto us—!” The world exploded in light. **Chapter 15: Gone**

And that, for the first time in weeks, gave her the sense that they might actually stand a chance. But even as they packed their belongings, made ready to leave, Fiona couldn't help but sense that this flight this act of rebellion against all the madness that had consumed their lives was only the start. The storm was not nearly through, and Paris, however lovely, would not be their sanctuary forever. But it was a start. A new book. Later, as they packed Liza’s favorite toys into her small suitcase, Fiona found herself checking her phone one last time. There was a text from Valeria, just a simple message, but it felt like the reassurance Fiona desperately needed:

Surviving this trip with my mind intact would be a hell of an achievement. I let out a breathe and settle in. Forcing myself to zero him out. It works a lot better because he sits quietly. My eyes fall on the book he's pulled out. “Seriously? This is your choice to read on a flight?” He frowns at me and tries to swat the book dangling between my fingertips. “Its a really good book.” “If you're in the 19th century. “The Prince”, really? What next, stock prices? A map?”

Believed she might destroy Aiden, Rowan—everyone. But then—Aiden’s hand squeezed hers, grounding her in the storm. His voice was steady, certain, unshakable. “No,” he said firmly. “You are not the fire, Evelynn. The fire is you.” And with those words, everything shifted. The flames within her no longer felt like chains. They felt like wings. Evelynn raised her hands, and the fire answered. Not in wild, reckless bursts—but in a controlled blaze that lit the storm-torn night like dawn breaking. The creatures hesitated, shadows quivering. Even Cassian faltered, his expression twisting for the first time into doubt.