The airport was a cacophony of noise and movement, but I barely noticed. My mind moved faster than my legs had only moments before. People brushed against me, the wheels of suitcases grinding along with murmurs of loud conversations; it seemed the rest of the world had their life intact while mine crumbled. I grasped my tote bag as if it was my lifeline, scanned the departure board, my eyes zeroing in on Rome's flight. Gate 17.
I wove through the crowd, my heart hammering in my chest. Was someone following me? Every shadow felt like a threat, every step behind me like an echo of danger. My father's secrets swirled in my head, a storm I couldn't make sense of. Guns? Drugs? Dead men? What did it all mean? And why did Peter and my father plan for me to flee?
"Excuse me," I muttered into a man, none-too-aware. I stumbled past him and made it to Gate 17, where the announcement of boarding was well into its progress.
"Ticket and passport, ma'am," said the attendant, smiling.
I froze. Passport.
My pulse spiked. In my frantic rush, I hadn't thought to grab it. My purse had my ID, but no passport. What now? My grip tightened on the tote bag, and I rummaged through it frantically. Nothing.
"Ma'am?" The attendant's voice cut through my panic. I felt a bead of sweat slide down my temple.
"Just a moment," I stammered.
A hand reached out of nowhere and clamped down around my wrist. My heart went out. Whipping around, ready to fight or flee, the man holding me merely smiled. Sharp features, dark eyes focused; an aura of authority clung to him, assurance of a man who expects always to be obeyed.
"You forgot this," he said with equanimity. In his hand was my passport.
I stared up at him speechless. "How did you—"
No time to explain, on the plane." His voice was low. "You don't want to miss it."
He let go of my wrist, and I was too shocked to say a word. My mind screamed at me to ask questions, to demand an explanation, but something in the urgency in his tone pushed me forward. I handed the attendant my ticket and passport, and she waved me through with a silent gesture.
It was then, turning to look for him, that I saw the man was no longer there.
I boarded the plane; my nerves were on edge. The cabin felt suffocating, even with air-conditioning. I slumped in my seat, holding tightly onto my bag. Who was this man? And how did he have my passport? Was he a friend-or another player in this crazy game?
The seat next to me was vacant, but I couldn't let my guard down. My fingers drummed against the zipper of the tote bag as the plane taxied to the runway. The engines roared to life, and I gripped the armrests, bracing myself for takeoff.
"Ruth Lee," a voice murmured beside me.
My head snapped to the empty seat. It wasn't empty anymore.
It was him.
The same man who'd handed me the passport. He sat casually, as if he'd been there all along. My throat went dry.
"How—" I began, but he cut me off.
"Quiet." His tone was firm but not unkind. "Do you want everyone on this plane to know who you are?"
I clamped my mouth shut, my eyes darting around. Passengers were engrossed in their own worlds—no one seemed to notice us.
"Who are you?" I hissed low.
"Frank Xia," he said succinctly. His gaze pinned me to the seat. "And you're Ruth Lee."
"Congratulations on knowing my name," I snapped, my fear morphing into irritation. "What do you want?"
"To help you," he replied evenly. "Your father and brother trusted me."
My heart sank. "Peter. is he alive?
Frank didn't even flinch. "We don't have time for that now. Just focus on getting to Rome. Everything else can wait."
"No!" I raised my voice a notch, and he shot me a look. I returned my voice to its normal volume. "I deserve answers. My family-"
"Is in danger," he cut in. "And so are you. If you want to survive, you'll listen to me.
His words cut deep, like a slap in the face. I leaned back in my seat, my mind racing. How did he know so much? And why did he think I'd just take his word for everything?
"What's in Rome?" I asked after some time.
"Answers," he said mysteriously. "And safety. For now."
"For now?" I said with much resentment. "You don't exactly instill confidence.
Frank didn't say anything immediately. He leaned closer, his voice a low whisper. "Do you think I saved your life just to throw it away? Your father's enemies are watching every move. The fact that you're alive means he planned well. But plans can fall apart if you don't cooperate.
I hated that he spoke so condescendingly, as if I was some child being scolded into obedience. But, the thing was-he was right. I really didn't know who to trust, but I had no choice but to trust him now.
The flight attendant came by and Frank leaned back, suddenly casual. I simply stared at him, my frustration simmering.
"What's going to happen when we land?" I asked once the attendant had gone.
"Someone'll be there to meet us," he said. "A safehouse is prepared."
"Us?" I repeated. "You're coming, too?"
"You're not prepared to handle this yourself," Frank told me matter-of-factly. "You'll need me."
I wrapped my arms around myself to hide my nervousness behind a pose of hostility. "And what's the reward for you in all this?"
He gave an awkward smirk, the first chink in his stoic façade. "Let's just say I owe your father a debt."
I didn't like the sound of that one. But before I could press him further, the jet jolted slightly, signaling our descent. The bottom dropped out of my stomach—not because of the turbulence, but because of the uncertainty waiting for me in Rome.
As the plane landed and taxied to the gate, Frank turned to me. His dark eyes were sharp and calculating. "Stay close. Don't speak unless I tell you to."
"I'm not a child," I snapped.
"No," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You're a target. Act like one.
I bit back my retort, the words sinking in. As much as it made me hate to admit it, he was right. This wasn't some game. My father's secrets had thrown me into a world that I didn't understand-a world where trust could mean life or death.
Stepping off the plane, I hit the humid wave of Rome like I fell right into it. The airport was bustling, yet Frank moved purposefully, guiding me with light touches through the crowd. Resistance wanted to creep in, yet fear kept my feet solidly by his side.
As we approached the exit, a sleek black car was waiting. A man in a dark suit stood beside it, his face expressionless. He nodded at Frank, then opened the door.
"Get in," Frank said, his voice brooking no argument.
I did, for a moment, but the weight of the tote bag reminded me of the danger I was in. I climbed into the car, clutching the bag tightly. Frank slid in beside me; his presence was reassuring yet unnerving.
The car pulled away from the airport; city lights blurred past. I turned to Frank; my voice shook no matter how hard I tried to remain calm.
"What happens now?"
He met my gaze, his face unreadable. "Now, we find out the truth."