Chapter 3
The private jet hummed beneath us as we cut through clouds back toward Manhattan. I sat alone in the rear of the cabin, separated from Sebastian and Charlotte by three empty rows—close enough to fulfill my duty, far enough to avoid his glares. My back still stung from the chandelier incident, and my stomach hadn't fully recovered from the poisoned bisque. Two calamities averted in two days. Ninety-eight to go.
Something changed in the jet's steady vibration—a subtle shift that sent warning signals through my body. The floor trembled differently beneath my feet, and a faint burning smell reached my nostrils before anyone else noticed. My senses, heightened by the curse, screamed danger.
I glanced toward the cockpit door. Sebastian and Charlotte were absorbed in each other, his hand stroking her hair as she leaned against his shoulder. No one else had noticed anything wrong.
The jet shuddered, a quick jolt that caused Charlotte to clutch Sebastian's arm. I was already on my feet, moving toward the cockpit as the plane dipped suddenly, sending a flight attendant stumbling.
"Mrs. Whitmore, please return to your seat," she called after me, but I was already pushing through the cockpit door.
The pilot's face was tight with barely controlled panic as warning lights flashed across the instrument panel. "Ma'am, you can't be in here—"
"Engine failure," I said, my voice eerily calm as I pointed to the right wing where wisps of dark smoke had begun to trail. "We need to descend. Now."
The co-pilot stared at me in shock, but the pilot's eyes narrowed. "How did you—"
Another violent shudder cut him off as the right engine sputtered and died. The plane lurched sideways.
"There's a small airstrip twenty miles east," I said, the knowledge flowing through me from some unknown source—the curse's gift and burden. "We can glide there if we start now."
The pilot hesitated only a second before nodding sharply. As he fought with the controls, I braced myself against the console, instinctively reaching for the secondary controls when the plane threatened to bank too sharply.
"You fly?" the co-pilot asked incredulously.
I didn't answer. I couldn't explain that in moments of Sebastian's mortal danger, I somehow knew exactly what needed to be done.
The next seventeen minutes passed in a blur of technical commands, calculations, and the pilot's increasingly respectful glances my way. We nursed the failing jet toward the tiny airstrip, executing an emergency landing that sent us skidding down a runway barely long enough to accommodate us.
"Everyone evacuate immediately!" the pilot ordered over the intercom as soon as we stopped. "Potential fire risk!"
Chaos erupted in the cabin. I helped the flight attendants deploy the emergency slides, directing Sebastian's panicked family members toward the exits. The acrid smell of burning electronics filled the cabin as smoke began seeping through air vents.
"Life vests under your seats," I called out, grabbing one and moving toward Sebastian. "We're near water."
He stood frozen, one arm around Charlotte's waist. As I approached with the vest, his eyes locked on mine with naked fury.
"What did you do?" he demanded, voice low and dangerous.
"We need to get out," I replied, extending the vest.
In one fluid motion, Sebastian snatched the life vest from my hands and tossed it across the aisle. "You nearly killed us all with your hysteria!"
"Sebastian, I'm scared," Charlotte whimpered, pressing herself against him.
He immediately softened, wrapping both arms around her. "I've got you. Come on."
They moved toward the exit, Sebastian grabbing another life vest from an empty seat and carefully securing it around Charlotte. I stood watching them, smoke burning my lungs, before turning to help an elderly aunt who was struggling with her oxygen mask.
Outside, standing on damp grass as emergency vehicles screamed toward us, I watched Sebastian comfort Charlotte, his body positioned to shield her from even looking at me. Elias Thorne, Sebastian's head of security, appeared at my side.
"The pilot says we wouldn't have made it without you," he said quietly, his eyes assessing me with new curiosity.
I said nothing, watching as Sebastian's hateful glare found me across the makeshift tarmac. I knew what waited for me when we returned to Manhattan. Another accusation. Another punishment for saving him.
I touched the small scar at my collarbone—the first of many—and wondered how much more of myself would be sacrificed before the curse was satisfied. And whether there would be anything left of me when it was done.