THE CHOPPER WHIRLED loudly, the sound of its spinning blades and trembling vehicle thumping rhythmically in Devora's ears even as she drifted in and out of consciousness. The nights hadn't been forgiving to her and having spent many hours awake, her fatigue was finally taking a toll on her attention span and energy.
They've been flying for what felt like hours but there still weren't any signs of nearing their destination much less landing anytime soon. It certainly didn't help that the whole cabin was a dead eerie silence, furthering Devora's need to succumb to sleep.
After the verbal fight that had broken down when they had taken off, neither one of the siblings had spoken ever since. Travis had been staring emotionlessly at the metal bars that were right next to their feet, his eyes unwavering as if he was stuck in a trance. Leah, on the other hand, had been fidgety the entire journey. Her eyes kept darting back and forth, examining her surroundings cautiously as if making sure that the men that were seated a single wall away from her would not bust in and take her out with a bullet through her skull. She had already stripped the entire aircraft's interior bare with her eyes but it didn't seem like she was satisfied no matter how long she observed. The possibility of ending up like her own younger sister played with her nerves, filling her with anxiety that reflected in her actions and behavior.
The final person in the cabin, Nathan, was now a silent statue. He had moved away from the window that separated the men in suits from the prisoners, now seated in a corner far back and away from all three of them. He didn't move that far away, of course, and if it was needed, he was still within range for him to easily pull out a gun and shoot them down. Nonetheless, when crouched in a dark corner with his eyes trained to his own two feet, fingers fiddling, and jaw clenched, Devora felt utterly unnerved at the sight.
Out of her three current companions, the one she trusted the least was Nathan. He was a wild card that could switch faces as quickly as he needed to as soon as the situation called for it. One moment he could be laughing and offering words of advice. In another moment, he could pull out a gun and aim straight for a person's vital points. What's more, Nathan was also the only one out of the four of them with a loaded weapon that could take their lives within seconds.
Devora didn't dare to speak up first. She didn't want to be the first one to start a conversation with such a questionable group of people. Some of them hated her guts while others she couldn't trust. There was no use in being friendly nor cordial. What's more, one wrong word could cost her the lives of everyone in the cabin. The blood on her hands would only increase, including her own.
Even drifting in and out of sleep hadn't been easy. The seats were deadly uncomfortable. The bars of metal dug into her skin and muscle, pressing against her bony hips. She had no shoulder to lean on, no pillow to cuddle with, and not even an even surface for her to lie on. What's more, they had been flying for who-knows-how-long and it was starting to make her feel nauseous. Her stomach gurgled every time the aircraft lurched a little, her ears popping and eyes watering from the desire to retch her guts out. However, there wasn't anything for her to heave out. She hadn't had a proper meal in too long.
When she awoke once more it was to the sound of creaking metal and a steady hum of the engines. She cracked one eye open as a warm hand snaked around her shoulders, pulling her into a comfortable embrace.
"Are you cold?" Nathan asked.
She was, very. The high altitude brought about dipping temperatures and the cold metal against her thighs served as another bitter reminder of her discomfort. However, no matter how uncomfortable she felt or how sinfully pleasant Nathan's embrace was, she refused to seek solace in his arms. It was her fault. She should've asked who was the one that had him save her. If she had known that it was such a questionable team... If she had known... What would she have done differently?
Devora pushed Nathan away, her arms weak with barely any strength left in them. What she intended to be a harsh shove was no more than a soft pat, barely even moving Nathan from his position. He still leaned away, nevertheless, just slightly to give her the space she needed. Taking the opportunity, she pivoted her body slightly so that she faced away from him.
"I'm fine," she stated simply, forcing out a lie through gritted teeth, refusing to say more.
"No, you're not." Nathan frowned, moving a little closer to her once more. "Your hands are freezing and you've been slipping in and out of consciousness without looking one bit rested. Let me help you."
"I don't need your help!" Her tone came out snappier than she had intended it to, not that she minded. It was better that it held venom. Maybe that way Nathan would be able to take the hint and leave her alone.
Mustering all the strength she could, she pulled both her legs up to the seats, wrapping her arms around them to preserve body heat while her forehead rested on her knees. From beside her, she could hear Nathan sigh before she felt a piece of fabric being draped over her shoulders. Sneaking a peek through the gaps, she noticed Nathan had laid a cloth over her shoulders, a piece of fabric that he had obtained from who-knows-where. He then retreated back to the far corner he was at right before coming over.
A feeling of remorse bloomed in Devora's chest, nearly suffocating her with thoughts. She desperately tried to shove them to the back of her mind and to ignore the logical explanations her brain had offered. Deep down, she knew that Nathan meant well and that he cared for her in his own right. After all, he offered her his food despite his own hungry stomach, protected her from being smothered by her own thoughts, and offered her a listening ear when he wasn't obligated to do so. He only had to bring her back alive but he went out of his way to do so much more for her.
However, she also couldn't ignore what had gone down back in the forest clearing. Whatever trust was built between the both of them had shattered at that moment. Ultimately, he still kept information from her. By default, that was a lie.
"He likes you," a voice croaked. Devora's gaze shot up to see Leah staring right at her. Her wide eyes were emotionless other than a tiny bit of amusement that couldn't be concealed. "It's so obvious."
"He doesn't like me," Devora retorted, snorting. She folded her legs under her, trying to find a comfortable position. "He doesn't even know me. We literally just met. And I don't like him either."
For the first time since knowing her, Devora noticed a mischief-filled smirk gracing Leah's features. By the time Devora noticed her mistake in her choice of words, it was too late. Leah had long caught it.
"I never said that you did," Leah rebutted.
"You implied it," Devora replied in a weak attempt to defend herself.
The conversation ended there, no more words passed between the two girls as they went back to their silent fuming contest. Devora, however, would never admit that Leah's words had affected her. It planted a seed of doubt within her heart and she began to question whether she was attracted to him or not.
It couldn't be helped, of course. Nathan was a charming man that had played the perfect role of a knight in shining armor during her lowest time. He broke her out of a place that resembled hell and set her free. However, that freedom was also taken away by the same person that had liberated her.
Nathaniel Jerald was a killer, a cold-blooded assassin that took lives as easily as a child plucking sweets off the shelves of a candy store. Gray's words from before echoed into her mind as well. Nathan wasn't just an average assassin. He was the very best, the one at the top of the killing game. If there was ever the need, he would raise his gun to send a bullet flying her way. She was just lucky that she wasn't the target this time around.
No matter how nice Nathan truly was deep inside, it still couldn't change what he was trained and manufactured to do. He still took lives for a living. Of course, she wasn't any better. After all, she had her own list of people that she eradicated from the realm of the living.
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