The private terminal existed in its own rarefied dimension — a bubble of obscene luxury completely detached from the screaming chaos of commercial airports.
No endless lines like some peasants trying so much to look cool. Neither security theater nor exhausted families wrestling luggage while sugar-crazed children screamed for snacks.
It was just gleaming marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a god's-eyeview of the tarmac, and the particular velvet silence that only money could buy — the quiet of people who never waited for anything or anyone.
Phei strode through the automatic doors like he owned the sky itself, Amber on his left and Yuki on his right. The energy rolling off him was so potent that airport staff straightened their spines on pure instinct, unsure why their pulses had suddenly quickened.
The private jet waited on the tarmac already humming with barely restrained power. But between him and the aircraft stood the real welcome.
And what a welcome it is.
