Falling from high above, the chances of survival were grim. Just moments earlier, Ella Heart had a cocktail in one hand while casually flipping through a novel with the other. The aeroplane was en route to the pristine resort island of Calivéra, a secluded tropical haven for the elite. Seated in first class, Ella had claimed two entire rows for herself—a clear statement that she valued privacy. Few dared approach her; they either knew better or feared the watchful eyes of her disguised bodyguards.
The flight had been smooth until now. The plane trembled violently, causing the lights to flicker ominously. A commotion erupted further down the aisle, prompting one of her bodyguards to step forward. He moved with purpose, signaling to the others to stay alert. Moments later, he returned, his expression grim.
The situation was unraveling rapidly. In an instant, her guards abandoned subtlety, forming a protective barrier around Ella, shielding her from the growing chaos of passengers scrambling to flee. Despite the panic, Ella remained composed, her calm demeanor almost unnerving. She sipped the last of her cocktail, set the glass down with deliberate care, and stood. Her piercing gaze met her lead bodyguard's.
"Shall we depart?"
It wasn't a question, but a command. Ella glided toward the barista, who was visibly trembling behind the counter.
"Would you be so kind as to hand out the parachutes?" she asked, her tone polite yet firm.
Her bodyguards wasted no time. Each strapped on a parachute with practiced efficiency. But as Ella reached for hers, the plane lurched violently, tilting sharply to the left. She lost her footing, her body slamming hard against the window. Pain shot through her shoulder, and a muffled groan escaped her lips, drowned by the crescendo of screams and desperate cries for mercy.
"Miss, please excuse me," one of her guards said as he helped her regain her footing.
Ella steadied herself, her resolve unshaken. She made her way toward the emergency exit, the chaos of the cabin roaring around her. The aeroplane suddenly spun, groaning under the strain, and with a deafening crack, a section of the fuselage tore away.
Ella wasn't prepared for what happened next. The rush of wind was deafening, and in an instant, she was pulled into the void.
The Fall
She was falling—spiraling through the storm-ridden sky. Her body collided with debris, and pain seared through her thigh as something pierced her flesh.
"Argh… what the fuck!" she shouted, her frustration spilling out.
The maddening circumstances tested even her iron will. Above, her bodyguards didn't hesitate to leap after her. Their shouts barely reached her over the howling winds.
"Miss Heart, we're coming!"
The assurance from her guards sent a ripple of calm through her, though the pain in her leg throbbed, a sharp reminder of her precarious situation. They were plummeting through the storm, engulfed in dense, swirling clouds and relentless winds. Beyond the chaos, there was no telling what awaited them below.
The aeroplane was gone, swallowed by the tempest. Thunder rumbled distantly, and the storm seemed to subside slightly, leaving only cold raindrops pelting her face. One of her bodyguards spotted something below—a lake, shimmering faintly through the dissipating stormclouds.
As the grey mist began to clear, Ella exhaled shakily. Relief washed over her, albeit briefly.
"Miss Heart!"
A bodyguard reached her just in time, pulling his parachute. They landed hard but safely on a patch of dry land near the lake. Behind them, others crashed into trees or splashed into the water, their descent far from graceful.
Survival on Land
"Miss Heart, are you alright?"
The voice came from Andy, the youngest of her guards, his golden locks dripping with rainwater. He stumbled toward her, panting and drenched, his uniform soaked through.
Ella studied him with a sigh, her expression unreadable. "Andy, you're shivering."
Despite her tone, there was a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. He'd survived, and for that, she was thankful. Around her were the rest of her guards—Oliver, Mason, and Luke—all drenched but alert. What was meant to be a luxurious holiday had turned into a nightmare survival scenario.
Ella pressed her lips into a thin line. "This feels more like survival boot camp," she muttered to herself.
"We have company," Mason announced sharply, his voice cutting through the tense quiet.
He moved swiftly, placing himself in front of Ella and Andy. Luke and Oliver followed, their stances rigid, ready for whatever approached. Andy stayed beside Ella, ensuring she remained within his sight.
Ella squared her shoulders despite the pain radiating through her body.