The continent of North America stretched below the storm layer, with city lights flickering faintly on the distant horizon like scattered embers. Rivers showed as black ribbons cutting through a darker landscape. Roads appeared as thin lines of light connecting isolated pools of human habitation.
They were officially in U.S. airspace.
They were officially out of immediate weather danger.
But the danger was far from over.
Because someone had tried to stop them at the refueling point. Someone had known they were coming, had positioned assets to intercept them, and had been willing to kill to prevent them from reaching their destination.
And those same people would certainly be waiting ahead, in New York, where Mu Yunchen lay vulnerable in a hospital bed.
