Hidden Flame

CHAPTER FOUR

Or maybe, the last time we'd ever see each other at all.

"You'll be fine," Mikael whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the engines. His words were meant to reassure me, but the weight pressing down on my chest remained.

I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling deeply, letting the sharp, fuel-tinged air burn into my lungs. For just a second longer, I clung to the comfort of his presence, like maybe if I lingered it would stick to me like glue. When I opened them again, he was watching me, an unspoken conversation unfolding between us. No drawn-out goodbyes, no unnecessary words—just a single, fleeting moment of understanding.

Then, he turned and strode toward the front of the plane, leaving me standing on the edge of a decision I could never take back.

The airstrip stretched before me, bathed in the fading hues of twilight. My pulse pounded against my ribs as I scanned the area. Shadows danced across the tarmac, cast by the towering metal planes lined up in rows. I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to move. One deep breath, then another—then I ran.

The cool evening wind sliced against my skin as I sprinted up the ramp, my footsteps a whisper against the steel. The cavernous cargo hold swallowed me whole, and I threw myself behind a stack of wooden crates, pressing my back against the rough surface. My breath came in quick, shallow bursts, my chest rising and falling as I struggled to still the tremor in my hands.

A mechanical whir filled the air, the sound of hydraulics engaging. Then came the clunks and metallic groans as the hatch began to rise, inching upward like the closing jaws of a beast. I shrank deeper into the shadows, watching as the last slivers of light disappeared. A final resounding thud echoed through the chamber, and the hatch sealed shut.

Silence settled, heavy and suffocating. But it didn't last. The engines rumbled to life, their deep vibrations resonating through the metal floor beneath me. The air buzzed with electricity, anticipation crackling in my veins. I curled my fingers into fists, grounding myself against the sensation of the plane moving. The steady roll turned into a faster acceleration, the engines roaring in a deafening crescendo.

The moment the wheels left the ground, my stomach lurched. Weightlessness gripped me for a fleeting second before the plane steadied in its climb. Mikael had said the flight would take only thirty minutes, but in the cold, dimly lit hold, time stretched into infinity. My thoughts churned like a storm, flickering between excitement and fear. Every choice that had led me here, every consequence waiting on the other side—it all pressed against my skull, a relentless, pounding reminder of what was at stake.

I wasn't turning back.

Eventually, the plane shifted, the nose tilting ever so slightly downward. The roaring engines softened into a steady hum, and the pressure in my ears popped. I straightened, muscles coiled tight as I braced for what came next.

The descent was smooth, but my heart was anything but. The wheels slammed against the ground with a screech, jolting the entire structure. My fingers gripped the straps of my backpack, knuckles white. My body was coiled, every muscle primed for movement.

This was it.

The hatch groaned, gears grinding as it slowly lowered. Light spilled into the cargo hold in a widening sliver, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. I took a sharp breath, forcing my legs to steady beneath me. My window was brief—before the soldiers swarmed to unload the cargo, before anyone noticed something out of place.

I couldn't hesitate.

The moment the hatch was low enough, I moved. My pulse roared in my ears as I stepped forward, every instinct screaming that there was no turning back. Then, in one fluid motion, I jumped.