Deception

Chapter 22 - Fallen Angel

Its here.

The day has come for us to leave for Russia, and I'm miserable.

When we stop at the jet, I step out of the car - a freshly cleaned car - into a cloud of foggy, icy air. Russia would be worse.

Letting my chest fall with a sigh, I follow Silas up the stairs of the jet. He's quiet. I've been quiet too, the dynamic between us hasn't been the same ever since that night.

Since he wrapped his arms around me and let me sleep in them, like he isn't the most brutal man in the country.

I still feel his heartbeat against me. Bask in the softness of his tattooed arms.

Part of it intrigued me - and then terrified me. How could it be that the same man who who gave me his warmth, is also the one I feared not long ago?

I tell myself to forget it, but day by day. Second by second, his presence is starting to unravel me. I don't understand it, or why my blood rushes with thrill when he's near.

Silas adjusts the collar of his black dress shirt on the way in. There's nothing thrilling about darkness and deceit. Or so I tell myself.

On my way into the warm jet, I can't help but being nosy into the cockpit. Maybe if the pilot's hot, O won't have these thought's anymore - but then Silas tugs at my hair. "This way dopey."

Clenching my jaw, I snatch my hair from his fingers and walk past him through the aisle. The jet is the most luxurious I've been on, with beige leather seats and marble lining. It's peaceful, until footsteps shake the plane.

"We're going to Russia!" A man exclaims so loudly I jump. I stare a dark haired man similar to Silas, but with a much bigger spark in his eyes.

"Hey, I know you." I cock my head. "Renzo?"

"Yeah, I'm the guy wh-"

"Who'll be thrown off this plane if he doesn't sit still." Silas butts in from behind him.

Renzo raises his brows, before falling back in his seat like he owns the jet. I guess that cockiness flows in the Cavallaro blood - if they're even related.

My eyebrows lower as I examine him. He wears a black hoodie and stalkerish looking joggers, and looks pretty....normal.

Normal or not, I don't know him that well, so when Silas sits, I take the seat front of him. He doesn't look joyful about it, but doesn't complain either.

As the jet slowly takes off, Silas sits back in his seat. "Put your seatbelt on."

"But you haven't gotten yours on."

From the look on his face I already know what he's thinking - I didn't ask if I had my seatbelt on.

Pressing my lips together, I click the seatbelt on. The plane starts to glide along the runway, and as it picks up its speed I press myself against the window.

"I hope the snow there isn't as bad as here."

"Why?" Silas asks, busy typing on his phone.

"More snow means storms." I pause, knowing I've never told anyone this aloud. "And storms terrify me."

His eyes pull up. From afar, they're a deep brown. Guarded with something curious, yet tense. The city buildings float away from me. Dark. Casted with a colourless filter.

New York is only bearable when leaving it. Tall skyscrapers fade into one blur of snow and squared roads, and then its gone.

A miserable cloud blocks my view and the plane gives one final shudder before it's steady. I don't realise until I relax onto my seat - I'm being watched.