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Chapter 63

Adelia’s Point of View

I was right. I was entirely fucking right and I hated every second of being right. The plane wanted to murder us and I was sure of it. I was petrified once we hit turbulence. Petrified when the pilot fell asleep behind the fucking steering. Petrified when we stopped in the middle of nowhere to refuel.

And went back up into the air by the grace of the goddess herself, seeing as we took off from a dirt road that had a fucking cliff at the end of it.

All the while, Michael looked thrilled. Trilled with laughter every time I let go of a scream or yelp. Seemed amused when I needed to throw up whatever was in my stomach, which was mainly bile by the end of the trip.

I missed Ciaran’s private jet that I so detested when used for willy-nilly travel. Missed the champagne and the fact that a few pieces of duct tape didn’t fucking fall off the side of it.

By the time we landed I was shaken up. Like a Chihuahua in a damned thunder storm.

Throwing our bags out of the damned
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