Chapter 19 Brackenridge

Chapter 19 Brackenridge
Everything stops.
The sound. The shaking. The storm.

For a moment, I think I’m dead, until I hear Nikolai’s voice.
“Breathe, Liora.”

I blink rapidly, my vision slowly clearing. I’m still strapped to the seat, trembling. My palms hurt from clutching the armrest too tightly. The world outside looks strangely peaceful again, soft white clouds drifting by like nothing happened. It’s almost cruel how quiet everything feels now.

“What just... what was that?”

“An almost disaster,” he says quietly, eyes fixed ahead. “But we’re fine. We're landing.”

My head spins. “Landing? Where?”

“I’m not sure yet.” His eyes scan the radar. “There should be a private runway or space nearby. We’ll find somewhere to stay until it’s safe to continue.”

I swallow hard. “You didn’t check the forecast before taking off?”

That earns me a small, sideways glance. “I did,” he says, voice flat. “It wasn’t supposed to be this bad.”

The jet jolts slightly again, and my fingers immediately grip the seatbelt. My whole body is on edge, ready to panic all over again.

I look at him, trying to read his face. “So what now?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His focus is glued to the blinking screen in front of him. “Now,” he finally says, “we land before the weather decides to try again.”

Even though the sky has cleared a little, I can’t bring myself to relax. My chest is tight, my limbs stiff. I do not want to move again for a while, not if it means going back into that chaos. No matter how 'silly' this honeymoon trip was supposed to be, I refuse to lose my life over it.

I stare out the window, clouds drifting lazily now. My hands grip the armrests until my knuckles ache. Slowly, the ground emerges beneath us and I see trees, tiny buildings and roads snaking through the landscape. A knot forms in my stomach, from a mix of relief and panic.

Finally, the wheels touch the ground, a soft thud that sends vibrations up through my seat. My heart leaps violently in my chest. For a moment, I’m convinced it will jump out entirely.

“There,” Nikolai mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he pops the inside of his mouth with his tongue. “We’re safe.”

I exhale shakily, air rushing out of my lungs in a long, trembling sigh. 

He steps down from the pilot’s seat and strides toward my door with surprising speed, as if he’s eager to make sure I’m alright. He opens it before I even have a chance to think.

“I… that wasn’t necessary,” I mumble, pressing my lips together as I take in his casual, almost playful expression. But despite my words, I step down, letting my legs support me again.

“Where are we?” I ask, scanning the small, unfamiliar space. A few low buildings dot the distance, and I can see a road that disappears into a patch of trees.

“Somewhere there’s civilization,” he says with a shrug, voice lazy. “Come along. Let’s find people.”

I blink at him, caught between irritation and exhaustion. Civilization? The word is supposed to comfort me, but right now it only makes me uneasy. The open field, the storm and the nearly catastrophic landing is a lot to process. And yet, I follow him, my hand still clasped in his.

We walk for a few minutes until in the distance I can see the faint outline of a small town. A ripple of relief runs through me, and I let out a long, shaky exhale. Nikolai notices immediately, his sharp eyes catching the tiniest of my movements.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head, amusement flickering across his face. “Scared we landed in the woods and the wild animals would have a taste of you first?”

I frown, feeling my blood pressure spike slightly. “It’s not funny,” I mutter, irritation coloring my voice. He, of course, just smirks at my reaction.

“Anything you say, moya lyubov," he replies smoothly.

We continue walking until we reach a small clearing where six men sit around a makeshift table, drinking. Even from a distance, I feel a twinge of unease. There’s something rough, almost raw, about the way they occupy the space. I squeeze Nikolai’s hand unconsciously, grounding myself.

The men notice our approach. One by one, they stop mid-motion, staring as if assessing whether we’re worth their attention, or worth a fight.

Nikolai, seemingly unfazed, strides forward, shoulders squared, exuding the kind of confidence that makes people step aside. He stops a few feet from them, hands still in his pockets, his gaze scanning each face carefully.

“Where is this place?” he asks, his voice calm but, carrying that natural authority of his. I inwardly groan at how blunt he is. No greetings, no small talk.

The men remain silent, their eyes flicking between each other, then back to him. Nikolai raises an eyebrow. “Y’all deaf?” 

One of the men, a tall, broad-shouldered fellow with a scar along his cheek, finally speaks. His voice is rough, cautious. “You… you landed in Brackenridge. Ain’t nobody seen a jet here in years. Who are you?”

Nikolai doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head, scanning them slowly, like a predator assessing prey. “Names are for introductions. And introductions are for people who actually matter."

I flinch slightly at the brutality of his words.

The scarred man, clearly unused to being spoken to like that, grits his teeth. His hands curl into fists, trembling slightly, trying to hide a mix of indignation and fear. “Useful? You flying in here, landing on our open field like you own it, and you think you can talk to us like that?”

“Nikolai,” I whisper, clutching his hand tighter. My voice trembles, partly out of fear, partly from awe. He glances down at me, that inscrutable look in his eyes softening ever so slightly, and then he lets out a long, slow sigh, like he’s weighing the option of being kind or ruthless.

“Do you have an inn here?” His voice is different now, stripped of teasing, almost serene. Calm, even. “Somewhere we can spend the night.”

The men exchange uneasy glances. I notice my hand still wrapped in Nikolai’s, and I can feel the strength in his grip, a reminder that I am tethered to him whether I want it or not.

Finally, a grumpy-looking man steps forward. His face is weathered and lined, like he’s lived in this town for decades. He spits to the side before speaking. “There’s one down town,” he says, voice rough like gravel.

Nikolai doesn’t hesitate. Not a flicker of hesitation crosses his face. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, almost imperceptible, and starts pulling me along. I follow, partly out of habit, partly out of fear. Each step we take makes the knot in my stomach tighten.

I glance around the town. It’s small, almost sleepy, but there’s an undercurrent of… tension. The kind you feel when people are watching, waiting. I can feel eyes on us. From windows, doorways, even from behind the scattered barrels and crates along the narrow streets. Every glance, every slight movement of a passerby makes my chest tighten.

“Relax, Liora,” Nikolai murmurs softly, his voice brushing against my ear. I bite my lip, unable to fully relax, my eyes scanning the street. “I’ve got you.”

I squeeze his hand again, silently reminding myself that I’m tethered to him, safe in a way, yet so exposed to the unknown of this town. A thought flashes through my mind. What if something here notices us? What if they don’t like outsiders… or people who land on their open field in a jet?

Nikolai seems to read my unease. He walks a little faster, eyes sharp. “Ignore them,” he mutters under his breath, not looking at me, eyes scanning every corner. “Nothing matters except us getting inside and somewhere safe.”

I nod, though my pulse thuds.

Nikolai keeps his hand firm on mine as we walk, his presence wrapping around me like a shield. And yet… I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. My instincts scream at me.

And though I know he’d protect me if anything happened, a part of me can’t help but feel the tension in the air pressing down on us.

Something about this town… it’s all wrong.

Very, very wrong.