"Whoa," Dom said, stopping short as they rounded the corner of the hangar. The jet was not just parked. It seemed to loom. Its matte military green finish drank the sunlight, giving it a silent, predatory stillness.
Jason let out a soft, breathy sound beside him in pure appreciation. He was already scanning it, his eyes tracing the flawless seam where the wing met the fuselage, the aggressive angle of the tail. "That is not paint," he murmured, almost to himself. "That is a radar absorbent coating. The winglets are custom. This thing is not just fast. It is invisible."
Dom blinked, pulling his gaze from the intimidating machine to Jason's starstruck face. "You are drooling. It is a plane, not a supermodel."
