Chapter 10

Annabel stared out the window at the shrinking city lights when the plane took off. For a brief moment, she thought she saw 18-year-old Tristan standing in the clouds, smiling at her. Then, a sharp pain exploded under her ribs, snapping the vision away. She bit down hard on her lip, the metallic taste of blood quickly spreading in her mouth. "Miss, are you okay? Do you need any help?" The man beside her lowered his magazine. He had clearly noticed the cold sweat on her forehead. She shook her head and buried her face deeper into her scarf, which she had bought at a cheap price outside the airport restroom. It still carried the musty scent of a basement. "I'm fine," she said lightly. "Just feeling a little queasy from the movement." The man, Kenneth Holland, glanced at the odd young woman again. Something about her didn't sit right. She wore a tan coat that was at least one size too big. There was a faint indentation on her left ring finger, like a ring had been worn for years. H