Chapter 91 Solo's Reckoning

• The wind howled across the tarmac, clawing at the chain-link fences until they sang a dissonant, metallic hymn. The airfield sprawled under a bruise-colored sky, its cracked runway lit only by the jagged beam of a dying moon. In the distance, a private jet waited like a coiled serpent, engines thrumming with impatience.
• Emma crouched behind a rusted fuel truck, her fingers numb around the grip of her pistol. Adam knelt beside her, his breath fogging the air as he scanned the perimeter through binoculars.
• “He’s here,” Adam muttered, nodding toward the jet’s gangway.