Chapter 1 - The Storm Above the Clouds
The Boeing 737 shuddered violently as it hit another pocket of extreme clear-air turbulence. Overheard bins rattled, gasps echoed through the cabin, and the flight attendant held onto a seat headrest for dear life. But inside seat 4A, time had stopped dead.
"Luca..."
The whisper had come from the dark-haired woman across the aisle—the woman I had assumed was just a tired nanny or a nervous companion. As the cabin lights flickered under the strain of the storm outside, I turned my head slowly, my eyes locking onto her face.
The tired eyes. The soft curve of her jawline. The slight, familiar parting of her lips when she was frightened.
"Elena?"
My voice came out as a broken, hoarse rasp. The name felt like a piece of glass sliding down my throat. Six years. Six long, brutal years during which I believed she had abandoned me, or worse, been murdered by the rivals who had hunted my every step. I had spent millions turning New York upside down searching for her grave or her ghost, only to find nothing.
"Luca... please," Elena wept, her body shaking as she pressed her forehead against the cool plastic of her window. "Please don't do this here. Not in front of her."
I looked down at my hand.
Lila’s small, warm fingers were still wrapped tightly around my knuckles. She wasn't looking at the storm outside anymore; she was looking back and forth between me and her mother, her little brow furrowed with intense, child-like confusion.
"Mom?" Lila asked, her voice high and thin. "Why are you crying? Do you know the secret suit man?"
I couldn't breathe. Air refused to fill my lungs. I looked at Lila—at her dark, curly hair, at the tiny crescent scar near her left eyebrow, at the slate-gray eyes that were an exact mirror image of the ones I saw in the mirror every morning before I put on my armor to rule the city.
"She's..." I couldn't even finish the sentence. The realization hit my chest like a physical blow, cracking six years of ice around my heart. "She's mine."
Elena didn't deny it. She just buried her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving with silent, agonizing sobs.
"You took my daughter," I whispered, the cold, terrifying tone that made men in dark alleys kneel taking over my voice before I could stop it. "You let me believe you were dead. You let me bury an empty memory while you took my blood across the country."
"You were going to get us killed, Luca!" Elena snapped softly, her maternal instinct flaring up despite her terror. She leaned across the aisle, her voice fiercely hushed. "Do you remember what it was like six years ago? The car bombs? The shooters at our front door? Your uncle Julian swore he would cut your throat and kill anyone you loved! I was three months pregnant when I ran! If I had stayed, Lila would have been born in a coffin!"
The plane lurched sideways again, dropping a stomach-churning fifty feet before the engines roared, stabilizing the aircraft.
Lila whimpered, squeezing my hand even tighter. "Mr. Suit? Is the plane going to break?"
I forced the ice out of my face. I forced my breathing to slow down, dropping to my knees in the narrow space between the seats, ignoring the flight attendant’s distant voice telling passengers to remain seated with their seatbelts fastened.
I cupped Lila’s soft cheek with my free hand. For a man who had broken bones and ordered empires burned, my hand was shaking like a leaf.
"The plane isn't going to break, Lila," I told her, my voice dropping into a soft, steady cadence. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
She looked into my gray eyes, searching them with that terrifying, innate wisdom she possessed. "Are you... are you the man in my notebook?"
Before I could answer, a sudden, heavy thud sounded from the galley behind first class. A tall man wearing a navy flight crew jacket stepped through the blue curtain. But he wasn't carrying drinks. His hand was tucked inside his jacket, and his eyes weren't looking at the instruments—they were fixed directly onto seat 4A.
May you like
Onto me.
My instincts, honed by a decade of war in the New York shadows, screamed an instant warning. I didn't think; I acted. I threw my body over Lila and Elena just as a silenced pistol clicked beneath the man's coat.
