Chapter 33 The Handler's Message
- The private jet’s cabin was quiet, save for the occasional creak of turbulence and the soft hum of encrypted data streams uploading from Penelope’s tablet. Outside, clouds smeared across the horizon in bruised hues of lilac and blue.
- Isolde sat curled in a corner, arms tight around herself, as the wind threatened to pull old memories forward.
- She didn’t sleep. Couldn’t.