𝑇𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

24

~ ilya ~

I'd been sitting in the jet for twenty minutes, waiting for the captain to fucking move already.

The alcohol was slowly seeping out of my system. I glanced out of the window at Milan's flittering skyline. In the darkness, it was almost beautiful.

But nothing was beautiful anymore.

"Vik!" I growled at the brigadier, who was sitting behind me.

"Босс?" he responded, appearing in sight.

Gritting my teeth, I had to pause. My skull was pounding.

Unhelpfully, it was then that the jet began to move. Dizziness was something I'd learned to master. Clenching my eyes shut, I waited for the wave to pass.

Eventually, I spoke, "Ничего—" [Never mind—]

Unexpectedly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Fishing out the device, I found that it was an unfamiliar, foreign number.

Frowning, I answered it. Only my ears to be assaulted by a frantic voice.

Wincing, I held it back. But the screeching was still too loud.

"Заткнись!" I groaned. [shut up]

"What?" the Italian girl asked, but carried on, "Didn't you hear me?"

I listened impatiently as the ground became more distant. How did she find my number?

"What?" I snapped.

"I said, Phoenix is here, you bastard!"

The phone clattered to the ground. I shot to my feet, shouting, "Стоп!" [stop!]

Vik returned beside me, wearing a questioning expression.

I barrelled past him to the cockpit.

"Верните этот самолет на землю!" I barked at the pilot. [Get this plane back on the ground]

"Но—" [But—]

"Cейчас!" [Now]

I tapped my foot impatiently, as the pilot spoke into his intercom to the air traffic controllers. I heard commotion, but I paid no heed to it.

If Phoenix was in Italy, I would not be leaving anytime soon.

Eventually, the pilot circled the airport and then, we touch-downed again on the runway.

I hurried down the steps of the jet and climbed into the SUV.

I dialled the previous number. Gianna Fioretti picked up, immediately.

"Where?" I growled.

"We're tracking a car. They're in Milan," she replied.

I heard the start of an engine on the other end.

Vik, wordlessly, followed and I barked, "Milan" to him.

It was convenient that the airport was only a matter of miles from the outskirts of the city.

"Who's they?" I demanded.

"I-I actually don't know," she said after a moment, "There was this man—"

My fists clenched.

"And she was unconscious the last time I saw her."

I slammed the phone down. It shattered on the dashboard.