Chapter 99: Wings of Obsidian
They surrounded me on all sides: tall, muscular bodies with sharp, watchful eyes. Strangely, I didn’t feel unsafe. I knew some of them were watching me, but it didn’t feel threatening. Their presence was overwhelming, sure, but also steadying. Familiar, in that strange way pack bonds always are. I raised my chin and pushed down the restlessness boiling just under the surface. It was growing harder to hold onto the thin thread of patience I had left.
We finally reached the private hangars, where a sleek, black plane waited with its stairs already lowered. Luke was already halfway up, speaking quickly to a man in uniform. I slowed to a stop, taking in the beast of a machine before me.
Of course, Zaliver wouldn’t travel in anything less than extravagant.
The aircraft was painted in a deep, liquid black, polished to the point it mirrored the cloudy sky. Silver trimming edged the wings and windows, glinting like sharpened blades. And on the side, etched in flowing silver script, were the words:
Z.A. Line – Black Beauty 2
My brows rose. Black Beauty 2? That name sounded familiar, like something I’d overheard in passing. Maybe once when Zaliver mentioned his travels. Typical of him to name a luxury jet like it was a beloved pet.
"Luna, take a seat," Mila said softly, tapping my arm and snapping me out of my thoughts.
I blinked and looked around. Everyone had paused, eyes flicking toward me as if waiting for the go-ahead. For a moment, I just stared back at them, surprised by the unspoken deference. Then I gave Mila a nod and started up the stairs after Luke and Courtney, who had already stepped inside.
The others followed close behind, their boots thudding softly on the metal steps.
Inside, the contrast was startling.
While the outside of the plane screamed danger and mystery, the interior was a cloud of opulence, silver and white everywhere. Plush chairs with wide armrests, sturdy tables made of frosted glass, a layout that screamed high-ranking elite rather than feral wolves. It was beautiful in a quiet, sophisticated way.
I didn’t want to admit it, but damn it, he had good taste. Cold, irritating, manipulative mate of mine or not, he traveled in style.
I slipped into the nearest seat, already bracing myself for whatever this flight and reunion was about to bring.
The cabin fell awkwardly silent for a second. I turned my head slowly and raised a single brow at everyone staring. That was enough to make them avert their eyes and start settling in, pretending I didn’t exist. Good. I didn’t need anyone in my space right now.
While the flight attendants started rambling about safety, I buckled in, barely listening. My fingers gripped the armrest, but I didn’t show how tense I felt. I was trying not to explode, emotionally or otherwise.
I usually wasn’t this cold with people I didn’t know, but right now? I didn’t care. They were strangers. Irrelevant. I had plans. A path. I was on it, and nothing was going to slow me down.
As I stared at the reflection in the glass, my lip curved into a dark little smile. My skin was still flushed with frustration, and my long dark hair framed my face like shadows in the sunlight. My eyes, deep brown and almost black, held a sharpness I hadn’t noticed before. Determination. Pain. Power.
A faint aura clung to me in the glass, something dark and crackling at the edges. It should’ve scared me, but it didn’t. It felt familiar. Like it saw me. Like it understood.
The plane started to move, but I didn’t flinch. I held my breath through the turbulence, only letting it out when the cabin smoothed out. Whatever had been clawing at my nerves settled mostly. Even my wolf, who normally whined and growled during takeoff, had gone eerily quiet.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was heartbroken. But every few minutes, her claws would drag against the inside of my chest, reminding me she was still there. Still angry. Still waiting.
"The ride should take about six hours, Luna," someone said from behind me.
I didn’t bother turning. Just gave a small nod.
Six hours.
That was enough time to strategize. To re-center. To prepare for the storm waiting at the end of this flight.
Whenever one of the guards offered me anything, water, food, conversation, I either ignored them or shook my head once. Eventually, they stopped trying. I slipped out my iPod and tucked in my headphones, ready to drown in something other than tension.
And like fate had synced up with my soul, "Heavy in Your Arms" by Florence + The Machine started playing. I leaned back into my seat, letting the music flow through me. The lyrics seeped into my bones, curling around my heart like vines. The pain, the power, the weight of it all, it matched me perfectly.
I hummed quietly, not caring if the others heard. Let them listen. Let them feel the weight of it too.
I tried to block them out, but it wasn’t that simple. I could still feel them. The emotions of the wolves around me bled through my senses: restlessness, confusion, curiosity, unease.
I turned up the volume until the sound pressed into my skull and shut everything else out.
Honey, here I come.
When we were just thirty minutes away from landing, I sat up straighter. I wasn’t calm, not even close.
I was brimming.
Anticipation clawed at my stomach. Curiosity buzzed in my veins. Longing burned under my skin.
But all of that was tangled with rage, betrayal, heartbreak, and something colder, deeper, something that had no name yet.
I took a shaky breath, then another, trying to slow my pulse. It didn’t help much. I’d been sitting still for too long. Now, every part of me was awake and twitching.
I tapped my nails rhythmically against the armrest as I glanced outside again.
The sea stretched out below us, deep, vast, blue.
But it wasn’t the blue I needed.