They mocked the woman in seat 22C—until two fighter jets aligned with her window, and a pilot spoke her name in a way that made the entire plane forget how to breathe.

spoke, very softly, “They’re here for me.”

Greg heard it.

He twisted so quickly the seatbelt buckle struck the armrest.

“What did you just say?”

Olivia kept her gaze on the window.

“They’re here for me,” she repeated.

No drama. No breathlessness. Only certainty.

Greg gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “You cannot be serious.”

His voice carried.

That was enough.continue reading …