The helicopter ride back to Cain's district was tense and silent. Even Frank, Cain's head of security, knew better than to speak, sitting at the very back, as still and quiet as the air around them.
Cain sat in his seat, his gaze fixed on the clouds drifting by as the helicopter cut through the sky. Fiona, however, couldn't find the same calm. Her restlessness was palpable.
She couldn't shake the memory of the raw hatred and disgust she had seen in Cain's eyes when he spoke to her earlier. The image gnawed at her, filling her with anxiety. She kept stealing glances at him, unable to quell the shiver that ran down her spine.
Does he not care? she wondered, her thoughts a whirlpool of doubt and unease. Finally, she found the courage to speak, her voice low and soft, just as Eldric had taught her to be when addressing someone as intimidating as Cain.
