Charles' Point Of View
The private jet gave one last, heavy shudder as the tires finally bit into the tarmac, the roaring thrust of the engines dropping into a low, smooth whine before dying out completely. The sudden quiet inside the cabin felt almost deafening in its abruptness, like the world had been holding its breath and finally exhaled.
I didn't move. I just sat there, letting out a long breath, and looked down at the sleeping beauty currently dead to the world against my chest. Rita had her face completely buried into the lapel of my jacket, one of her hands still loosely clutching my shirt like she thought I'd vanish if she let go.
The gesture, so vulnerable and trusting, made something warm unfurl in my chest… something I'd thought long calcified by years of violence and betrayal. I couldn't help but chuckle, the rumble making her blonde curls shift slightly.
