SYBIL'S POV
Russian, Morocco,
05:00 am
A man leaned in and fastened the seatbelt across my lap, but I barely registered the movement. My eyes were locked on Alaric.
He hadn’t moved an inch from the rooftop—his posture calm, but his eyes… they told a different story. I could see it, buried just beneath the surface. He hadn’t just convinced me to go. He had to convince himself first.
I was still trapped in that silence when the helicopter began to lift. The shift in air pressure made my stomach flip, and instinctively, my hands reached for stability. One gripped the edge of the seat with white knuckles. The other—without thinking—closed tightly around something warm.
A hand.
His hand.
Hunter’s injured hand.
The moment I realized it, my breath caught. Slowly, I turned my head.
He was already watching me.
His face was unreadable, but those eyes… those eyes were colder than steel. No fury, no softness, just silence. Emotionless and devastating. The kind of gaze that could burn down a city or leave it untouched—depending on his whim.
I remember holding his hand between my palms while begging but the same moment i realised that touching him was like reaching for something forbidden, but this time, this time he didn’t pull away. He didn’t do anything. I too am wasn't panicked, I was so calm about it as if i had whole day to react. Slowly I unraveled my fingers and placed both hands in my lap,
The helicopter steadied above the chaos we’d left behind. I blinked and looked out the window—realizing only then that we were already in the sky, already gone.
Lia once promised me a hot air balloon ride—if I danced that night. And now that I was finally up here, above it all… it felt nothing like how I imagined. It's not magical. It didn't bring me any kind of joy, happiness. I wish I was experiencing in different circumstances.
I turned to the window, breath fogging the glass as I stared out. There it was—an ocean, vast and endless, like a secret the earth refused to share. I’ve never seen an ocean before. Not in person. There wasn't any shore in my village.
Lia’s second promise had been to take me to the seaside. Another promise broken.
A sigh slipped from my lips, too soft to be heard over the thrum of the blades above. I still couldn’t decide whether Lia had been the better manipulator—or I was simply too naive, too easy to shape into whatever role she needed.
I let my head rest against the cold glass, eyes tracing the endless stretch of blue. Hours passed like that—just water and sky, then water wrapped in darkness, glittering beneath the moonlight like shattered obsidian.
When I finally turned away from the window, my gaze landed on the only other constant presence—Hunter. He hadn’t moved much. Sat there with his laptop, fingers typing steadily, face bathed in the cold glow of the screen. Focused. Detached. Like the storm of our lives hadn’t touched him.
He didn’t look up. Not once.
Eventually, the blue gave way to something new.
An island.
It rose from the ocean like a secret carved into the earth. Massive. Half-swallowed in thick jungle, wild and untouched. But nestled in its heart—twinkling lights.
We landed straight onto open ground, the roar of the blades kicking up a storm of sand that clouded the air like desert mist. I squinted, shielding my eyes until it settled. A man in black approached swiftly, opening the helicopter doors and helping me unbuckle the noise-cancelling headset and my seatbelt with practiced ease.
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MAFIA'S WRONG TARGET
Fantasy[ Story Of Misunderstanding ] [ Gory Concept ] • Mafia's Target Series Hunter King returns, now stronger, more ruthless, and undeniably crueler than before. Though a part of him has undoubtedly died, it is the weakest part- his heart. Sybil, a ball...
