Phoebe's POV
Alone by the window of the private jet heading to Coralia, I stared into the endless black void outside. My expression remained stone-cold, an icy barrier wrapped around me like armor.
Ajax kept stealing glances from the pilot's seat—this was another peek—and our eyes locked.
He let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Phoebe, need something to drink? Maybe eat?"
"Focus on flying," I said flatly.
"Right," Ajax mumbled, forcing another awkward chuckle.
He turned back to the controls, sulking silently. The autopilot was handling everything anyway—no manual flying required.
But Ajax knew better than to argue, keeping his complaints to himself.
I could practically feel his thoughts: Phoebe's absolutely terrifying!
He was probably wondering how many of my punches that Chester bastard could take.
Though honestly? I wouldn't waste time beating him up.
A few bullets would do the job just fine.
Ajax was likely thinking, Why did these idiots provoke this killing machine?
