Chapter Six
POV
Mira
The Sky Between Worlds
The plane hummed with steady power, a giant silver bird slicing through the night sky.
The cabin lights glowed dimly, a soft amber haze that blurred the faces of sleeping passengers. Somewhere, a baby whimpered. 'A man coughed. Someone whispered a prayer in Hausa "Suban-ha-na-llahi"(God help me).'It's common to hear whisper of prayers in Nigeria.
The engines roared like caged thunder beneath our feet, reminding me how far I was from the ground; and from everything familiar.
Abuja was already a memory, shrinking behind me with every mile. Ahead lay the glittering unknown-Florida, the energy summit, the investors who would decide the fate of my company, 'my name, 'my dream.
I should have felt relief.
"Freedom". Triumph!
Instead, my chest carried a weight that refused to lift.
I told myself it was exhaustion. Months of back-to-back negotiations, sleepless nights, and the final, silent argument with him. The one that ended with his eyes—those impossible golden eyes—watching me leave.
I pressed my palm against my heart as if I could erase the echo of his presence.
And that's when I heard it.
A whisper.
Soft at first, like the sigh of the wind. Then clearer, threading through the hum of the engines.
"Mira…"
"My name".
'I froze!
'My pulse spiked!
'The passengers around me carried on as if nothing happened; a mother cradled her baby, a teenager scrolled on his phone, the flight attendants chatted softly near the galley. No one else heard it.
I shut my eyes tightly. It's in your head.
'You're tired.
But then the air around me shifted-warmer, thicker. My skin prickled.
"Did you think distance could save you?"
The voice slithered through my mind, deep and velvety, achingly familiar.
'My breath caught. "No," I whispered before I could stop myself.
The woman beside me glanced up briefly, then went back to her magazine. She hadn't heard. None of them had.
"Thank God they didn't hear me, if not' No, one will believe am not insane!
I pressed my forehead against the window, forcing my gaze to the dark Atlantic below. A vast, endless abyss. No cities. No lights. Just the night; and the pull in my chest that told me he was closer than I dared believe.
Then the plane shuddered.
The seatbelt sign blinked to life. Drinks rattled. A few passengers gasped.
The turbulence hit hard, like the sky itself had grown restless. I gripped the armrest, not from fear of crashing, but because I felt him.
'Outside, lightning flared across the clouds-white veins tearing through the darkness.
And for one impossible heartbeat, I saw them.
'Eyes.
Golden. Glowing. Burning through the storm.
They weren't a reflection. They weren't my imagination. They stared into me, searing and endless, the eyes of a king who bent the laws of heaven just to find me.
"You cannot run from me, Mira. Even the sky belongs to us."
I gasped, my breath fogging the window.
The plane trembled once more, then stilled, as though obeying him. The captain's calm voice announced that we'd passed through the worst of the turbulence, but my world had tilted permanently.
Hours later, when dawn began painting the horizon, I was still staring at the pale blush of light creeping over the Atlantic. Florida glimmered in the distance; a promise of opportunity and danger all at once.
The moment the plane touched down, I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"Thank God, we landed safely".
',But relief was a lie.
The Florida air felt different-humid, heavy with salt and sunshine. The airport gleamed like a palace of glass and steel. Voices echoed in perfect English, announcements crisp and emotionless. Everything smelled of disinfectant, coffee, and the sea.
Yet beneath it all, I caught something else.
A scent I knew too well.
Rain-soaked earth. Pine. Wildness. Him.
My steps faltered. My suitcase tilted dangerously. I scanned the crowd-the businessmen in tailored suits, the families clutching passports, the cab drivers holding placards.
No golden eyes. No trace of the impossible.
'But I felt him. Watching. Waiting!
My phone buzzed, snapping me back. An email from the summit liaison:
"Welcome to Florida, Ms. James.
The welcome reception begins at seven sharp. Investors from North America and Asia will be present. You're scheduled to deliver your opening remarks on Dalesman+Mainstream's Warri refinery expansion." This will give me an opportunity to secured a firm to work with, if I choose to stay in Florida.
Warri. Home. Oil. Numbers. Logic. My armor.
I straightened my shoulders. "Focus, Mira," I muttered to myself. "You worked for this."
But deep down, something whispered, You're not alone.
By evening, the world had shifted again.
The hotel ballroom shimmered with gold light and quiet opulence. Crystal chandeliers glowed above a sea of expensive suits and champagne flutes. The air buzzed with polite laughter, deal-making, and ambition.
'I stood near the edge of the crowd, a navy-blue suit hugging my frame, my heels clicking softly against marble floors. Every gesture, every smile rehearsed.
'I was Mira James-the calm, brilliant managing director from Nigeria. The woman who made foreign investors listen.
"Ms. James," said a bald American with a sharp grin, extending his hand. "Impressive presentation at last year's Lagos forum. You've got a reputation for turning challenges into profits."
I smiled, shaking his hand firmly. "In Nigeria, Mr. Holland, survival is innovation. We don't wait for opportunity-we build it."
He chuckled, clearly charmed. "Spoken like a true leader."
If only he knew how hollow I felt inside.
Because behind the polite conversations, the clinking glasses, and the sterile music, something stirred.
'A shadow!
At first, I thought it was a trick of the light-a man moving just out of sight, slipping between clusters of guests. But then the air thickened again. Warm. Electric.
And then the scent hit me; earth after rain, the unmistakable signature of the wild.
My heartbeat stuttered.
I turned, scanning the crowd, and my breath caught.
He was there!
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a dark suit that couldn't disguise the dangerous grace of his movements. His hair, black as midnight. His eyes, golden, molten, unwavering.
'The Alpha King!
My world narrowed until it was only him. The noise of the ballroom faded. Every heartbeat in the room felt like it was syncing with mine.
He didn't need to speak. His gaze said everything.
Did you think oceans could keep me from you, little flame?
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away, to breathe, to think. "This isn't Nigeria," I whispered under my breath.
"You shouldn't be here."
But when I looked back, his lips curved, a faint, knowing smile. The kind that promised both ruin and salvation.
The lights flickered for the briefest second, the chandeliers dimming as if the world bowed to his arrival. Conversations faltered, guests glancing around in confusion. Then the power surged back, music resumed, laughter returned.
'But he was gone.
Or maybe; just beyond sight.
My glass trembled in my hand. My pulse thundered.
I knew then, with a cold certainty, that Florida was not my escape.
It was his hunting ground.
The sky between worlds had brought me here, but fate had brought him.
And this... this glittering ballroom filled with power and deception, was merely the beginning.