Chapter 58 The Ascent
The black SUV pulled up to the curb at exactly 12:00 PM. The engine was a low, predatory hum against the gritty sounds of the neighborhood—the screech of a distant bus, the shouting of a street vendor, the relentless wind whistling through the fire escapes. Eliza gripped her suitcase so hard her knuckles were white, her eyes darting from the luxury vehicle to the cracked, salt-stained pavement of our street.
"Last chance to run," I whispered, my own breath hitching as I felt the weight of my parents' expectations and my sisters' needs sitting heavy in my chest.
"I’m not running from a private island, Mila," she said, though her voice shook with a cocktail of terror and adrenaline. "I’m walking toward it. Even if I have to do it in marker-stained shoes and a thrift-store blazer. We’re going, and we’re going to look like we belong there until our hearts stop."
When we reached Teterboro, the driver didn't go toward the commercial gates. He veered toward a private hangar shielded by high fences and armed security. The "first-class tickets" Nate had given me in class were exchanged at the security kiosk for two laminated gold passes. As the car stopped on the tarmac, the sheer scale of the Salvatore wealth hit me like a physical blow. I saw it—a sleek, white Gulfstream G650 with the Salvatore crest subtly embossed on the tail in silver.
Nate was standing at the base of the stairs, looking unfazed by the biting New York wind. He was dressed in a light cashmere sweater and dark trousers, already looking like he had adjusted to a warmer climate. He looked at our mismatched suitcases, then at the gold buttons on my blazer. He didn't mock us; he didn't even offer a smug smile. He just stepped aside to let us board, his expression as unreadable as the blueprints I’d seen him studying at the docks.
"The commercial tickets were a backup," Nate said as I passed him on the stairs, his voice low and private. "I didn't think you'd believe me if I just told you I had a plane waiting. You prefer things you can touch, don't you, Mila? Things that feel real."
"I prefer things I've earned," I shot back, though the interior of the plane took my breath away.
It wasn't a cabin; it was a lounge. The air was filled with the scent of expensive lilies and high-end leather. But the air also felt crowded. I stopped short in the aisle when I realized we weren't alone.
Theodore was already seated in a wide, cream-colored swivel chair, a book open on his lap. He looked up, his expression softening instantly when he saw me, though a flicker of concern crossed his face as he took in the fact that I had actually come. Across from him, staring moodily out the window with a pair of headphones around his neck, was Gavin.
The tension in the small space was thick enough to choke on. Gavin didn't even look up as Eliza boarded behind me. I felt her freeze, her hand catching on the back of a seat. The silence between them was a jagged thing, a reminder of the emerald necklace and the cold abandonment at the cafe.
"Welcome to the flying circus," Theodore said, standing up to take my bag. He tucked it into an overhead compartment with an easy, practiced motion. "I wasn't sure Nate would actually convince you."
"He’s very good at removing excuses," I said, sitting in the chair furthest from Nate, who had taken his place at the head of the cabin.
Gavin finally turned his head. His eyes met Eliza’s for a split second—a flash of raw, unfiltered longing—before he looked away, his jaw tightening into a hard line. He looked like he wanted to jump out of the plane at thirty thousand feet.
"Where exactly are we going?" I asked, trying to break the suffocating silence.
"Great Exuma," Nate said, accepting a glass of sparkling water from a flight attendant. "The Salvatore Estate is on the southern tip, completely private. The rest of the Alverstone seniors are already at the resort down the beach, but the three of us—and our guests—stay at the main house. It’s a tradition."
"A tradition of what?" Eliza asked, her voice surprisingly sharp as she stared at Gavin’s profile. "Seeing how much the other half can endure before they break?"
Gavin flinched, but he didn't speak. He just pulled his headphones up, effectively drowning us all out.
The plane taxied toward the runway, and as the engines roared to life, I felt a sickening sense of vertigo. We weren't just leaving the city; we were leaving the gravity of our lives. As the nose of the jet lifted, the grey, frozen grid of New York vanished beneath a layer of white clouds, replaced by the endless, blinding blue of the upper atmosphere.
Theodore leaned toward me, his voice quiet. "Are you okay, Mila? You look like you’re waiting for the floor to drop out."
"Isn't that what happens when you fly with Salvatores and Beaumonts?" I asked. "The floor is always a variable."
"Not this time," Theodore promised, his gaze steady and sincere. "I’m glad you’re here. Even if the circumstances are... complicated."
Nate watched us from his seat, his eyes tracking every movement, every word. He didn't intervene, but his presence was a constant weight. He had brought the five of us together in this high-altitude cage for a reason. He was the architect of this trip, and we were all just moving parts in a design I still didn't fully understand.
"The flight is three hours," Nate announced, tapping his tablet. "I suggest you use the time to adjust your expectations. The Exumas are a different world. The rules of the city don't apply there."
"What rules do apply?" I asked, looking him in the eye.
Nate leaned back, a dark, predatory glint in his eyes. "Mine."
As the cabin leveled out, Eliza leaned her head against the window, her eyes closed. I knew she was thinking about Gavin, about the ocean she’d never seen, and the gold buttons she’d sewn onto a thrift-store blazer. I looked at my own hands, still sensing the phantom chill of the shipping docks.
We were heading toward the sun, but I knew that in this world, even the sunlight was a commodity. This “beach trip” wasn't a vacation; it was an arena. And as the plane chased the horizon toward the Caribbean, I realized I hadn't just packed a suitcase of borrowed clothes. I had packed a role in a play I hadn't finished reading.
The grey slush of my life was thousands of miles behind us, but as I looked at the three boys who held my future in their hands, I realized that the higher we climbed, the more dangerous the fall would be.