Chapter 13

On the plane, Whitney rubbed her eyes, pulled the blanket up higher, and tried to catch a bit more sleep. Just as she was about to doze off, a sharp shriek pierced through the air from behind her. A little boy, around maybe five or six years old, had started throwing a tantrum. He kicked the seat in front of him and screamed that he wanted to play games on a phone. His voice was so loud that it nearly drowned out the roar of the engines. His mother sat right next to him, but she just patted his back once and muttered, "Sweetie, quiet down." She clearly had no intention of actually stepping in. Around them, other passengers were frowning. Some turned to glance back, but no one said a word. Whitney couldn't sleep through the racket. She turned over, took a deep breath, and tried to suppress the irritation rising within her. Just then, she heard the faint shuffle of someone standing up. It was a man. He wore a simple black hoodie and had a tall, lean build. Without looking around,