Chapter 2

Evangeline's POV

"How the hell do you know my husband is in jail?"

The blade at the man's throat didn't flinch. My eyes bored into Renata. "I never said a word about him when I boarded. Who sent you?"

Renata's flash of rage vanished. She raised her hands, putting on a compassionate mask, but her eyes kept darting nervously toward the cockpit.

"Evangeline, drop the knife. Ground control just relayed your criminal record to the cockpit. The captain confirmed it." She sighed, softening her tone like an exhausted mother. "I'm a mom too. I know your pain. But think about it—even if Lila is alive, how is she going to live knowing her mother is a terrorist serving life for hijacking a plane? Put the knife down. It's not too late."

My heart plummeted.

If I was shot dead right now, what would happen to Lila? What would happen when Daniel got out? My tightly coiled nerves began to fray, and my grip on the knife loosened a fraction.

Just then, a warm, tiny hand tugged gently at my shirt.

I looked down. It was a little girl in a floral dress, maybe six or seven, squeezing out from the gap in the seats beside me.

"Mia! Come back! Get away from that psycho!" An elderly woman with silver hair shrieked from nearby but was too terrified to step forward.

The little girl looked up, her blue eyes crystal clear, showing no fear. "Are you looking for your baby? The way you're crying... it reminds me of my mom before they took out her tubes. She had red eyes just like you."

She reached out her soft finger and touched the back of my tense hand. "How could your baby ever bear to leave you?"

Her innocent voice hit my chest like a sledgehammer.

Lila begging me for candy, the boarding pass with her name on it, the dirty plush bunny shoved under the seat—the memories exploded in my mind.

My daughter was breathing, and she was on this plane.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I will never let my baby go." I wiped my tears, pressed the knife tight against the man's neck again, and locked my bloodshot eyes on Renata. "You used the wrong psychological warfare on me."

"Die, you bitch!"

A brutal roar erupted from the crowd. A man built like a tank, wearing a leather jacket, stood up aggressively.

"Listen to me! Why should we die for her delusions?!" he turned, riling up the panicked cabin. "We have the right to self-defense! Dylan, what are you waiting for?! Shoot her! We'll all be safe once she's dead!"

"Kill her! Shoot her!" Several passengers chanted almost simultaneously. The rhythm of their voices was eerily perfectly—and the man I held hostage was one of them.

My stomach dropped. There was zero genuine fear in the leather-jacket man's roar. He sounded like an actor feeding someone a cue. He yelled the loudest, yet his eyes kept calmly darting between Renata and the cockpit. Curtis—I'd later learn his name—was no frightened passenger.

"Everyone sit the hell down! I'll shoot the next person who moves!" Dylan aimed his gun around the restless cabin, veins popping on his forehead, but his eyes were remarkably lucid. He barked into his walkie-talkie: "Flight crew, search the lavatories, galleys, and the cargo aisle—do it right in front of her!"

The captain’s voice came over the PA, way too calm. "Ladies and gentlemen, for your safety, please remain calm and cooperate with the crew."

Too calm. The plane was being hijacked, yet there wasn't a trace of tremor in his voice.

Five minutes later, three sweating flight attendants ran back, shaking their heads at Dylan. Nothing. Not even a trace.

"Look," Dylan said, standing five paces away, trying to sound reasonable. "The plane is only so big. Where could she hide? Give it up. The police will investigate once we land."

I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing.

The cargo bay door couldn't be opened from the inside. The air vents were too narrow for a five-year-old. Someone had taken her and stashed her in a blind spot only the crew knew about.

This wasn't a missing child case. It was a premeditated kidnapping. From the captain to the crew, to this instigator in the leather jacket, to the fake passengers cheering for my death... Someone paid a fortune to buy out a whole plane.

I forced down my surging panic. Taking a regular passenger hostage meant nothing to these professionals. Their chants of "shoot her" proved they wanted me to kill the hostage so Dylan would have the green light to take me out.

Adult lives had no value to them.

I needed a chip they wouldn't dare gamble with to break their defense.

I shoved the man back into his seat, spun around, grabbed Mia, and dragged both of us behind the curtain of the galley.

"Mia—! No!" the old woman collapsed in the aisle, screaming hysterically. "She took Mia! She took the child!"

The curtain fell behind me, blocking out the rest of the plane.

I crouched down, lowered my voice, and stared into the little girl's blue eyes.

"Those bad people hid my baby, Mia," I forced a smile that looked worse than crying. "You're a brave girl, right? Wanna play pretend with me?"