WRITER'S POV:
The next morning, Ivy's alarm clock blared like it owed her money.She slapped it off with a groan, regretting every ounce of last night's wine and emotional collapse. Marcie had already left for a baking class, probably still chuckling over Ivy's mafia-crush meltdown.
Ivy showered in record time and pulled on her uniform, but as she pinned her hair back, she caught her own reflection and winced. Her cheeks still flushed remembering that hand."Get it together," she muttered to herself, stabbing a bobby pin in like it was her dignity.
At the airline crew lounge, something was off.The usual hum of caffeine-fueled chatter had been replaced with a kind of static—low, tense. Whispers buzzed around like bees on espresso. Ivy caught fragments—"internal audit," "unusual manifests," "nonstandard cargo." Her purser, Dana, who usually had the emotional range of a houseplant, was nervous. Ivy clocked it instantly."Hey," she whispered during briefing.
"What's going on?"Dana stiffened. "Nothing you need to worry about, rookie. Just fly the plane and smile.""Fly the plane?" Ivy raised an eyebrow. "Are we that short-staffed?"Dana didn't laugh.Instead, she handed Ivy a printed list. Passenger manifest. "Special clients in business class. No mistakes."Ivy's eyes scanned the list. No Cassius.Relief and disappointment collided like unbuckled passengers during turbulence.
She didn't have time to sort out which emotion won.They boarded. The flight was routine. Unremarkable. Until it wasn't.
Halfway through, Ivy noticed the first red flag—a man in a tailored gray suit who never removed his sunglasses. Not even when he asked for water. His briefcase never left his lap. The second flag came when two flight marshals boarded midair. Quietly. No announcement. Just... appeared.Ivy leaned into Dana as they prepped the galley. "We're not an international spy airline, right? Like, this isn't a Marvel thing?"Dana gave her a look that said, You ask too many questions for someone with that much hairspray.
Then came the real glitch.One of the cargo handlers burst into the galley, pale and sweating. "Ma'am, there's something weird in the hold. Like... equipment. Big stuff. Sealed cases."Dana turned sharply. "Not your concern." She jabbed a finger at Ivy. "Lock the service door. Stay put."So naturally, Ivy peeked.Just enough to catch two men in black jumpsuits securing a crate the size of a coffin. One of them had a wrist tattoo—a serpent curling around a Latin phrase. Her breath caught.The tattoo was identical.To his.Static.It was back.And now, it had a direction.She ducked away before they saw her. Heart racing, she fumbled with the service panel, pretending to busy herself with napkins.
Her fingers shook.
Cassius Black.
That man was somehow involved in this.
The sealed cargo.
The jittery crew.
The shadow passengers.
And Ivy?She was in the middle of it, wearing heels and a name tag.Perfect.