Chapter 57 - The prisoner

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"No room for failure, ok?" Max muttered as he paced in front of the jet, realising there's not much longer he can stall before Jerry starts to ask questions.

'Don't worry Max, I got it covered," Dylan rushed to get him off the phone.

And for a second, the devil considered calling back and making it clear he should stop treating this as a joke. Remind him who's the boss, if you'd like to.

But then the new message notification caught his eye.

Thud

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Thud. Thud.

His heart made an excited somersault at seeing her name on the screen. Did she find the letter? Is she coming to stop him from leaving? Could it be that she forgave him?

The possibilities were endless. Something he much prefer to the hopeless state he was in mere minutes ago.

And it explains why there was an unusual lightness in his step as he barged into the cockpit. Finding Jerry slumped over in his seat, deep asleep.

Sorry for the long wait, buddy. He let out an inner sigh, but then the corners of his mouth started to quiver anew. Trust me that it was worth it.

Softly closing the door, he backed out of the jet again. Concluding that the least he can do for him is let him go back well rested, given he might not be carrying any passengers to keep him company.

Nonetheless, the thought was short lived. His mind soon turning to calculating how long it could take Deya to drive there at this time of the day.

His lips spreading into a smile once he concluded it should be no longer than an hour in the late afternoon traffic. Hour and twenty minutes if she doesn't share his obliviousness to speed limits.

I can deal with that.

His eyes focused into the distance, as if he could picture her car rolling to the gate already.

And who knows? Maybe she'll even push the accelerator harder at the sight of Spitfire sitting on the runway, barging through the barrier.

Max shook his head, amused by the thought.

But the longer the idea lingered, the more he realised it's not that unrealistic, and the last he needed was for her to total her car or injure herself.

So, slowly, but surely, his feet began to move again.

There was a fair distance separating him from the gate, almost making him consider taking the car.

However, with all this time on hand, a walk might be exactly the distraction he needs. And so he began the journey, occasionally looking over his shoulder at the setting sun while wondering if that's the same scenery she's enjoying from behind the wheel.

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