Chapter 77 Isle Nikolaev
- Aella
- The hum of the private jet’s engines seems to blend into the background, like white noise in a sea of my restless thoughts.
- Roman sits across from me, in a seat made of the finest leather money can buy, absorbed in some files on his tablet. The rich interior of the jet, with its ambient mood lighting and plush furnishings, contrasts sharply with the tension I feel in my bones.