A sharp gasp. Her head was throbbing, the pain excruciating.
When Annelise Valentine opened her eyes, she was on a plane. Outside the window, the stratospheric sun was blindingly bright, and a sea of clouds churned like snow.
Her pupils constricted at the sight of the plane's interior, and her heart felt as if it had been violently squeezed. 'Didn't I die?'
'No, this is wrong.'
'Wasn't I in that Kingsbay mansion, confronting Jett Westgate? Didn't I kill myself with a gun right in front of him? How could I be on a plane?'
Her breath came in ragged gasps for several seconds before she forced herself to calm down, her gaze slowly sweeping across the cabin.
Those familiar faces were all there.
Kian Miller, Leo Lennox, and Hugo Summers were huddled together, their conversation circling endlessly around guesses about Henry Kingston's mysterious bride.
