The jet pierced through the heavy gray clouds of Meridon, bleak and metallic, and burst into clear skies.
Sunlight flooded the cabin.
Below them stretched endless blue and gold, crisp winter air over vast and unbroken plains.
Catherine didn't move to the bedroom, though the jet had some. She remained seated by the window, elbow resting lightly on the armrest, chin supported by her hand.
And then she saw it.
Laurel Creek.
Their land.
Six counties wide.
Her chest tightened, not in pain this time, but in something softer.
Home.
"Are we landing near the hospital?" Maximilian asked carefully.
He wasn't sure how any of this worked. Private airports. Private jets. Helipads on rooftops. He felt like he had stepped into another dimension of power.
Catherine shook her head faintly. "No. We'll land at our airport and take a chopper from there. It's faster."
Of course. Another helicopter. And judging by everything else he had seen, it wouldn't be hired.
